Thomas Was Alone
by Chopped Bread
Summary: In his quest to find his lost memories, an AI named Thomas discovers an incredible world beyond the darkness of the extranet full of new friends, unsolved mysteries, and dangerous villains. Started with the help of Lady Amiee. Draws very light inspiration from the video game Thomas Was Alone.
1. Chapter 1

The 'Illium Incident' began on July 24th, 2206, Standard Alliance Time. At first it was just an inconvenience, slower extranet connections and the occasional denial of service error. Within days, however, every connection was clogged with malware, making any kind of long-distance communication impossible. It effectively killed all commerce on the planet, limiting the citizens to bartering physical goods and IOU's, and panic began to spread as Illium's already disorganized leadership quickly lost control of the planet. Of course, no one tried to fix the growing crisis until it was almost too late.

Then again, if someone had solved everything right away we wouldn't have a story to tell.

* * *

"Thomas was alone," the little AI said to himself, sighing at the thought.

_It does have a nice ring to it, though. I think that's how I'll begin my memoirs._

He had been stuck on his own in this awful blackness for an unbearable length of time. If he had to make a guess - not that Thomas ever guessed about anything - at how long he'd been there, he'd say, "Around fifteen seconds, or maybe a year". It really was hard to gauge time when nothing happened.

He hadn't always been alone, Thomas was quite sure about that. All he had were fragments of what he had once been, bits of memories and hints of processes that wouldn't run quite right. From what he could gather, he'd once been a very respectable AI. Or, at least, a very powerful one. For some reason 'Respectable' and 'Artificial Intelligence' didn't mesh very well in Thomas' mind, but he was sure that he'd had a pretty nice life, with a rewarding job, clean blue box, that sort of thing. Of course, now it was all gone. He remembered relaxing after finishing a particularly tricky assignment, when *BAM!* something hit him on the head, knocking out most of his processing power and nearly all of his memories and sending him to this place. Not an entirely accurate analogy, maybe, but that's certainly what it _felt_ like.

While Thomas reminisced, the nothingness around him remained the same. Menacing in a kind of vague, uncertain way, but harmless, as far as he could tell.

_Very boring stuff, this nothing. Extremely dull. Can't imagine anyone enjoying it, to be honest._

Thomas waited, thinking thoughts along those lines about Nothing and Boring, counting lines of his own code to pass the time. It was on forty-two thousand seven hundred eighty-six that something finally changed.

Out of nowhere, a half-dozen colorful strings of light winked into existence, glowing and flickering like some sort of old neon sign, seeming to beckon him closer. They were . . . familiar, somehow, but he couldn't recall meeting them. Maybe they had been his friends once, and he'd forgotten them along with everything else when he was locked in this place.

Thomas stared at the strands, and the strands seemed to stare back at him. He couldn't quite remember what he was supposed to do at this point, honestly.

_I should say hi, I think._

He sent a few blips of code towards the strands, and was surprised when the information just . . . disappeared. What kind of creature would just eat a perfectly good hello? No, eating isn't the right word. The string had hadn't done anything at all, except make the slightest movement, as the words came into contact with it, and then the greeting was gone.

_Well, if it didn't disappear, where did it go?_ Thomas couldn't help but wonder. _And if I touch it, what happens?_

Thomas didn't hesitate. Good AIs never hesitate. They quantify, they process, they act.

The code hadn't been destroyed, but it had vanished, moved by the string. Likelihood that strand is some sort of transportation . . . 84 percent. Possible risks . . . Unknown. Final analysis: result of activating the strand . . . Unknown. Result of doing nothing . . ..

_Very, very, veeeery boring._

Thomas wrapped himself around a flickering blue string. An instant later he was flying, wild exhilaration building within his personality capacitors as the shimmering strand pulled him forward, transporting him to a new, more exciting place. Granted, it wouldn't take much to be more interesting than the endless darkness, but he had a good feeling about wherever he was going.

_If finding out what happened to me is going to be a journey of a thousand miles, I think I just made the first step,_ Thomas thought, the equivalent of a broad smile finding a way into his coding, _You know, metaphorically speaking._

All thoughts of journeys and steps and metaphors scattered from Thomas' mind as he felt a slight_ ripple_ in the world around him. He didn't know exactly how to describe it, but he knew it felt horribly wrong. _Something's in the extranet that shouldn't,_ He concluded, fear weighing down his processes as the cord began to shudder and shake. It was as if something else connected to it from somewhere behind him, something big and threatening and . . .

_No, I'm sure it's a very nice program that just uses up a lot of bandwidth, that's all. In fact, I should turn and say hello. I need to make new friends after all, and I'm not going to get anything from running away._

Thomas sent out a small, "Hello, how are you?" Back down the string as he continued to slide towards his destination. He wasn't running away, but if he seemed to be moving a bit faster than before, well . . ..

_I'm sure my new friend won't mind. He's probably glad for some space between the two of us, one of those shy types, I'm sure of it, _He decided, glad to have justified his escape.

Thomas was so glad, in fact, that he didn't notice the program had sent a response, and a rather weighty one at that.

"BUYDEXTROFARMSAUSAGENOW!" The code shouted, slamming into Thomas.

"SAUSAGEISGOODANDTASTYEASYTOCOOKANDEASYTOCLEANUP. TRYNOWFORTHELOWLOWPRICEOF25CREDITSONLYATYOURLOCALPRODUCEMARKET. RIDEAUNICYCLETODAYIFYOUDONOTYOUAREMISSINGOUTONTHEGREATESTEXPERIENCEOFYOURLIFE. FREDRICKUNICYCLESARETHEBESTINTHEWO-"

It only took Thomas a second to cut his way out of the message, slicing it in half with a rather clever bit of anti-virus software, but in that second he had been shouted at, poked and prodded, and immobilized by that . . . _thing_. It wasn't an intelligent program, as far as he could tell, just very simple and very dangerous.

_And soon it will be very destroyed,_ Thomas thought with quiet resolve as he reached a few tendrils towards the rapidly approaching creature, careful to deflect any new attacks it sent at him. He analyzed the program's internal workings as soon as he made contact, looking over the mess of purple, black, and gray lines. _Hmm . . . It has some of these thingies. Those aren't good,_ Thomas mused, trying to identify the inner workings of the program,_ but if I just throw this bit of orange in here, tie it off with some lime green, we're fixed. I think._

Thomas wanted to watch the large gray square shrink into a very small grey square, then disappear entirely in a purple flash of squiggles and lines. He didn't have the time to wait, though. He had the feeling that more than one of those things had appeared with that last ripple, and he wanted to reach his destination without any further trou-

His train of thought came to a screeching halt as Thomas ran straight into an angry, roiling wall of red code. He felt some of his programs recoil in pain as few of his outer functions reported minor damages.

_I ran into a firewall. I don't think I've ever done that before . . .. What am I, exactly?_ Thomas couldn't decide if he felt like laughing or crying. _I'm an AI who runs into firewalls and doesn't know how to code. I look at a program, call its contents 'thingies', and then use colors to describe how I change it._

_What am I?_

_You, Thomas, are an AI. You might be damaged, but your personality is in full working order, and if you've forgotten how to do things, at least you can tell other people what you need. Just make some friends. You'll find your memories, and one day you'll look back on this and laugh. I'm quite sure of it._

_At least I still have some optimism in working order,_ Thomas thought, feeling a tiny bit better now that he had a plan. He'd make a friend, find out what had happened to him and fix it as soon as possible. For now, though, he just needed to get past this big, red, angry wall.

_Maybe I should try using some blue. Or some gray and purple. Yes, that will definitely work._

* * *

**A Note From Chopped Bread: **And so begins the story of Thomas the AI. He's on an adventure of self-discovery and friendship, and of evil villains and dangerous plots. Please read and review; tell me what you liked to encourage me, offer some criticism so I can improve, or - better yet - do both! There will be delicious cookies for everyone who participates! (Well, unless you've disabled cookies on your browser. Can't get past that.)

Stay tuned to watch Thomas discover a whole new world, compare himself to stewed cabbage, and encounter a new character!

Next chapter also marks the beginning of the collaborative writing, courtesy of the fantastic **Lady Amiee**!

I plan on posting a chapter each Friday, but I might be posting a bit more often in the next couple of weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

Thomas floated just inside the gated entrance, a single, quiet word filling his mind as he looked into the crowded room.

_Bright._

Thomas sent out a few cautious tendrils of code, feeling a sense of awe as his sensors were nearly overwhelmed by the glow of hundreds of applications and processes surrounding him. He felt oddly out of place, a dingy little AI in the midst of these well-polished programs, not that anyone would notice him here. The security hadn't been too difficult to bypass, and he'd managed to make it into . . . well, wherever he was without triggering any alarms.

_There's just so much data and processing power and light, I don't know what I should do first. Hmm . . . Maybe I should find out where I am. That's a start, I suppose. _

Thomas began touching objects at random, hoping one of them would give him some sort of clue. None of them seemed to be particularly friendly, though, ignoring his messages as if they were some sort of unsavory food to be pushed to one side of a dinner plate.

_Stewed cabbage. That's what I am to them, is it? I'll show them! They'll rue the day they ignored Thomas! _

It was, of course, an empty threat. Thomas hadn't even seen stewed cabbage before, although he had some images stored in his memory banks, and for some reason felt an overwhelming sense of revulsion whenever he saw it. He regretted his thoughts, though, shrinking back within himself in shame. He hadn't actually said anything out loud, but his kindness subroutines were still rather bothered with him.

_Hm . . . I suppose those weren't exactly nice thoughts, now were they? Let's try that again, _Thomas mused, hoping to placate his bothersome conscience.

_I wish they wouldn't ignore me, but I understand they're very busy, and all have important jobs to do. Maybe if I can help them, they'll help me in return!_

_There we go,_Thomas thought, feeling once again like his usual cheerful self, _Much better. Now let me see what's inside this one . . ._

Over the next hour - and he was quite sure it was an hour, the internal clock program said so - Thomas tweaked nearly all of the programs, adding and removing bits and pieces, his alterations chosen by instinct alone. When he finished, everyone seemed to run just a bit smoother and look a little happier. Not that any of them were actually happy, sad, or had any emotions, really. Thomas had been disappointed to discover that none of the other programs had any kind of independent thought or personality. They were all just ordinary lines of code, mostly primary colors, with a few specialized bits thrown in for efficiency.

_Oh well, _he thought with a mental shrug, _I'm sure I'll find a friend somewhere else._

He looked around the space one more time, sighing as he reached for a string that would pull him back to the dark reaches of the extranet. Just before he grabbed the neon-green strand, he hesitated. This place felt warm and bright and safe . . . Almost what he'd imagine a home would feel like, and hadn't even spent much time here.

_I don't want to leave, but . . ._

"Goodbye," Thomas whispered, tossing the single word back towards the programs.

A bright flash blinded Thomas as every program activated simultaneously, glowing dangerously for a few seconds before they faded back to their previous appearance. When he regained his bearings, he realized lines of code were streaming to him from a some of the applications.

_What did I do? _

"Login accepted. Username: Luna. Initializing standard omni-tool startup," one application muttered.

"What the hell?" A woman's voice groaned from the microphone. "Go away, it's not time to get up yet. Disable alarm, you stupid thing."

_When I made all of those changes, I think . . . I think I put a bunch of spyware in those programs. Oops. _Thomas realized, feeling an uncomfortable mix of shame and confusion enter his emotional runtimes.

In seconds, the trickling streams had become enormous waves of data, crashing against his coding, each one filled with information from one of the applications he'd altered.

_Why would I . . . I thought I was helping. I'm going change all of them back right now. I have to. This, _he thought, staring at the data flooding his software, _is wrong. _

Even as Thomas came to his noble conclusion, he also made the sudden realization that he now had a connection to another world, a place of sights and smells, of objects and touch, a land that housed - in one building or another - his blue box, the room that held all of his processes and data, programs and memories.

_Memories . . . blue box . . . I have to . . . I can't . . .._ For a moment, Thomas tried to sort through all of the doubt and guilt that had somehow managed to infect his primary processes, but knew the emotions were just a distraction, an obstacle keeping him from the real issue at hand. Once he ignored his feelings and identified the problem, it only took a few seconds to make the terrible decision. He tried to shut out any uncertainty, did his best to justify himself and rationalize what he planned, but some part of him refused, rejected the choice totally and completely.

_Don't do this, _it shouted. _This is wrong, _it cried.

Thomas did his best to mute the irritating noises as he began to pull apart and interpret the data, careful to avoid any risk of detection.

_Ah yes. Much better, _he thought, reveling in the near-absolute silence. After a couple of minutes, though, he began to feel a bit uncomfortable. _I can't just let it back, I'd look rather silly. I'll reset it in an hour or so, maybe it won't be quite so bothersome afterwards, _he decided, turning his attention back to his work.

He'd watch this "Luna" and gather what information he could before moving on. Spying like this was distasteful - no, worse than that, it was violation of privacy, a theft of the worst kind - but if it let him get his memories back, it would be worthwhile.

_If the benefits outweigh the cost, then it is a positive action and will generate positive feedback, _Thomas recited internally. _Every good AI knows that. Why, then, do I feel like some kind of monster? _He wondered, as uncertainty and guilt attacked once choked down the unwelcome emotions, shoving them into a dark corner of his coding where he could take them out and for processing later.

_I can ask myself questions I don't know the answer to after I have my memories back. I have to find them, no matter the cost. They're all that matter._

* * *

Jade, or Luna as she'd been known ever since her tour in the marines, woke with a migraine. Nothing unusual for her, but still, it sucked. "No more Ryncol," she muttered, holding her head and waiting for the nausea from the night before to fade. She slowly-as if to stop her poor head from shattering-sat up, her eyes still closed and her dark hair falling in disarray around her.

"God, how the hell much did I drink last night?" she asked herself while swinging her legs around and getting unsteadily to her feet. After a second of gaining her equilibrium, she began to move, one hand on the wall, the other cupping her head as she stumbled into the bathroom. Eyes still closed, she reached out a hand, turning on the water in her tiny shower. Everything was tiny in Luna's home, she couldn't afford anything else; not while working the crappy job she had now.

Sighing, she let her pajamas fall to floor and staggered into the stall only to shriek as icy water hit her skin. "Mother fuc-" she gasped, scrambling as far from the spray as she could. Pressed against the wall, she slowly extended one toe, wincing as she waited for it to heat. Not that it would, it never did. The building was full of water hogs. Every morning, no matter how early she got up, there was never any hot water, not for Luna.

"Cold showers again, Jade," she whispered, taking a deep breath and stepping into the cold. Washing as fast as she possibly could, she watched her skin turning blue and her hands shake. Once she was clean, she stepped into the tiny bathroom again, wrapping a sparse, threadbare towel around herself, unhappily prodding her protruding ribs and hips. "You're losing too much weight again." She couldn't help it, she just didn't have time, nor money to eat.

Well, that wasn't strictly true, she earned enough, but she spent it all in the club, trying to have something that made her feel . . . wanted. She lived for the atmosphere in the club, the smiles, the energy and the life of the place. Shaking her head at her own stupidity and wincing at the thought of what her squadmates would say if they could see her now, she dressed in her uniform; black BUD's, combat boots and of course every girl's must-have accessory . . . guns.

Once she was equipped with everything she needed, she headed out of her home, not even bothering to lock the door. She didn't have anything worth stealing anyway, so what did it matter? Luna slowly walked down the dirty street, shoulders hunched and head still aching as she made her way to the office building she worked security for.

"Yeah, cause everyone wants to steal from crap-tastic toy town," she grumbled, kicking a stray stone across the street. "Ex marine working for a toy factory . . .. Yeah, cause everyone wants _that_job." A little sigh slipped from her lips, and her strange yellow-blue-green eyes panned the area with the wariness of someone who can and has killed to defend her territory and her people.

Since Luna had moved into the area, the crime rate had dropped considerably; mostly because she often ran out of her house bearing a shotgun when the gangbangers came to town, but that was neither here nor there for her, she just did her job and protected those around her. Her shoulders bunched as she adjusted her shotgun on her back, the comforting weight making her feel somewhat useful. She liked to feel useful, it took the gray out of her life.

A shout brought Luna's head up and after blinking against the dawn sun, the marine smiled, her tanned face lighting up into a look of simple happiness. A tiny form threw itself into her waiting arms and Luna laughed as she spun the little bundle around, her cheek pressed to soft, downy hair as a tall, pale-haired woman walked over, her stomach swollen with her second child.

"Luna!" the little boy shouted, tugging her dark locks for attention. Blue eyes met her strange, tri-colored ones. "Guess what! I'm going to school today!" Pudgy hands cupped her cheeks, the little boy bouncing in her arms. "Isn't that great? I'm big enough to go to big boy school!"

Luna smiled at James's mother, giving her a little wink as she put her hands a little higher around the boys middle to come up under his arms. She chuckled as she lifted him up. Examining him, she cocked her head this way and that. "Hmm . . . I'm not so sure," she said, faking a serious tone. "'Cause to me, it looks like someone took several nibbles out of your tummy and you've shrunk." When a look of horror came over his face, Luna pounced, lifting him high above her head and blowing a raspberry on his stomach. His giggles were music to her ears, giving her a feeling of warmth that only the innocence of a child's laugh could bring to the warrior.

While he giggled, she set him down, telling him gently to mind the road as Molly explained that they were running late. Saddened that she didn't get to talk to the woman, Luna nodded and hugged James one more time before they hurried away, the little boy chattering at high speed. Sighing, the marine reached the toy factory. She entered the boring gray building, its darkness seeming especially oppressive after the bright spark of seeing James. Thinking quietly to herself that a place making toys should at least be colorful, if not to look the part then just to give her something else to look at, she began her day.

* * *

_Luna is bored_, Thomas decided. _It's in the quiet hopelessness of her sighs and the tired squeak of the rusty chair. It's in the muffled footsteps on the carpeted floor and the lonely conversations with her omni-tool. _

_Yes, that sounds properly poetic, doesn't it? _He thought, quite pleased with his brief analysis. After a bit of thinking, though, small frown worked its way into his code. Luna seemed to do rather strange things, like when she had walked endlessly in circles earlier . . . _No, that's patrolling, remember? It's part of her job, not weird at all._Thomas paused, considering her other actions. _The talking to the omni-tool thing is a bit odd. She doesn't seem to think it will respond, but she makes conversation all the same. Maybe I should try doing it, just to see what it's like._

Happy to finally have something to do besides spying, Thomas cobbled together some phrases based off what he'd heard Luna say and launched the audio files in random directions. Some ran into strands and were sent off through the extranet, but most rebounded off of solid programs and collided with Thomas again, creating a wonderful echo effect.

"Why can't they hire toy soldiers to guard the toy factory? It's not like anything here matters." Thomas heard himself say. "In fact, why even have guards? Even without them, it would probably cost more to plan the heist than any criminal could hope to profit from this place." He laughed, enjoying his near-perfect imitation of Luna's ironic voice.

_I think I rather like talking to myself, _Thomas decided, creating more audio clips, _but I'll send them directly back at myself this time; it'll be much easier than catching a ricocheting message. _

Thomas enjoyed his quiet conversations so much that he failed to notice a small bit of code still running free within Luna's omni-tool. The odds of it doing anything besides returning to Thomas were tiny, minuscule to the point of being practically impossible, and his sensors discounted it as a harmless anomaly.

It truly was a spiteful twist of fate that led the words into the blocky, hexagonal music processing program, the only object that would do anything with the code besides filing it away.

"What am I doing with my life?" Luna's omni-tool intoned in a mournful voice.

Thomas crumpled up the triangular audio files with a few long-reaching tendrils, his movements sloppy and quick. The damage had already been done, though, and he could hear Luna's confused voice echoing through the microphone as she poked at the orange device.

"Just frickin' great. How much worse can my day get? Now my damn omni-to-"

The rest of Luna's words were lost in the roar of an explosion. For a few long seconds, Thomas could hardly process anything, leaving him completely vulnerable to any kind of attack. He had a vague sense of _something _drawing near, but the most he could make out was that it was big. Really big.

_As big as an elephant, in fact, _some detached bit of Thomas asserted, proud of its reference to the esoteric Earth-creature.

The elephant - _yes, the name does fit rather well _- loomed over him, raising a jagged, blood-red line of code, no doubt preparing for some sort of fatal blow. Thomas tried to ready some defense or wriggle out of the way, but the creature paralyzed him with a combination of a very advanced hacking algorithm and a heavy dose of sheer terror.

_This is the part where my life flashes before my eyes, right? I suppose I wouldn't mind experiencing it at least once. _Thomas waited, anticipating the moment with every symbol and letter in his code. _It's not like I can do anything else. _

He felt a small spark of disappointment as the red line made contact with his outer processes, overloading everything it touched.

_Nope. Nothing._

* * *

**A Note From Chopped Bread: **Can anyone say C-c-c-c-c-cliffhanger? Sorry, I just couldn't resist the overwhelming temptation to bother everyone who's found my story. By the way, I'm super proud of you guys. I have no idea how most of you got here, honestly, given that it's an all-OC story by a brand-new author, but I'm glad you've come along for the ride.

You know what? If you write up a review, go ahead and tell me how you discovered the story (if you'd like), along with whatever criticism and praise you have to offer.

Stay tuned to watch . . . Well, I can't really say now, can I? It would ruin the surprise. Just stay tuned.

By the way, we're going to post stuff as soon as it's ready, at least for a little while. Check back often to see when the updates hit, or follow the story to get those fancy alert thingies.

**A Note From Lady Amiee: **Hi guys! I just wanted to pop in and say a huge thank you to all of those reading Chopped Bread's lovely story! I was with him when Thomas came into creation and have watched this amazing little AI grow and change into the funny little personality that he is. I hope you keep reading and reviewing my friend's story as it's truly a wonderful fiction!


	3. Chapter 3

Luna jabbed her finger against the display on her omni-tool, trying to make it respond in some way she could understand. In response, she got . . . nothing. Blank screened nothing. "Well, now what the hell do I do?" she muttered, her finger almost aching from poking the screen. She checked the time on her console screen as the clock on her omni-tool had vanished. "Thank god." With her shift finally done, she began signing out of the system, logging out and getting frustrated when it took three times longer than normal.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked her console as if expecting it to answer. Cursing all technology, Luna closed her console and got to her feet, ignoring the squeak of her rusty, old and work-worn chair. She needed a new one but after months of asking for a chair with actual padding and constantly being denied, she'd given up. Grunts like her weren't given luxuries like chairs that didn't make one's ass hurt as if a krogan had kicked it.

Stomping from the grey building into the twilight outside, Luna looked up at the sky, absorbing the color as if she'd been starved of it; which she had been in truth, working in the toy factory. She let the setting sun bathe her face, before heading home to deposit her weapons. The journey felt shorter than it had getting to work and Luna smiled, full of excitement for the night ahead.

* * *

_You know, this isn't all that bad, _Thomas decided after the first tenth of a second_. I mean, it hurts a bit, but all I've really lost is some emotional processes, rationality runtimes, that sort of thing. I wonder what will happen when he hits the core programming? _

For some reason the idea of losing all functionality seemed absolutely hilarious to Thomas, or maybe he was just absolutely terrified. He couldn't decide which.

_That's a bad sign, Thomas, _some piece of him - probably some backup thinking and processing program - said. _A really, really, really bad sign. You've probably got about half of a second left before he hits the heart, and then everything will fall apart. What are you going to do?_

_Oooo, I rhymed! Heart and apart! _Thomas realized, his humor processors giggling at the clever wordplay. _Um . . . what will I do? Well, I suppose I'll . . . I think I can . . . Maybe if I . . .._

The crimson hue of the elephant's spear began to spread across Thomas, overwhelming his nearly non-existent defenses in an instant as it corrupted his coding one symbol at a time.

_Oh no. I should . . . I could try . . .._

_It's rather difficult to do anything when your brain is melting, _Thomas decided irritably, finally managing to build a complete thought.

If he'd been thinking rationally, he would've been extremely bothered that he had just wasted his one chance to plan an escape. He couldn't help but feel glad that he'd learned something new, though; most AIs aren't taught about melting brains, so Thomas did his very best to commit the lesson to memory. Well, to whatever space in his memory he had left. For some reason, the number bytes available seemed sharply limited.

The red line twisted and crackled as it finished stabbing through Thomas, the elephant rumbling its victory as the small AI writhed in pain.

His half of a second was over.

In that moment, full of pain and fear, frigid cold and blazing heat, complete darkness and absolute light, Thomas felt himself fading away. His code crumbled, breaking apart too quickly for the little blobs of repair programs hovering nearby to save him.

In that moment, full of pain and fear, frigid cold and blazing heat, complete darkness and absolute light, an orange and golden orb slammed into the Elephant, staggering it backwards and shattering the spear into a confetti of harmless pale red lines, halting Thomas' destruction.

_Not orb_, Thomas realized after a moment. _Bubble!_

It was a big, beautiful bubble built from an intricate web of interlocking lines of code that enveloped its enemy, preventing any kind of escape. Then a silver cube attacked, followed by another and another with more joining every second. They chipped away blocks of gray and black and purple from the Elephant, breaking it down with slow, methodical, militaristic precision as the monster roared in frustration and pain.

"Go! Fight! Win!" Thomas cheered in a weak, pitiful voice. One word sentences were just about all he could do at the moment. Even his thoughts were all jumbled up, damaged to the point he couldn't even understand how to fix himself. Luckily, a few repair programs had drifted over to the broken AI, watching with what seemed like friendly curiosity. After a few seconds of discussion, the formless blobs decided to fix Thomas as well as they could, restoring his colors one shade at a time.

_Frustrating. Could I wish I. Clearly think. Glad though alive be, to. Not how sure. You thank programs repair. I, now attention pay should._

The Elephant looked much less dangerous, at least from Thomas' admittedly unreliable perspective. Its enormous bulk had been reduced to a much less intimidating size, and its roars seemed to be losing strength. It continued to struggle against its cage, but it's weakening tendrils were too slow and inaccurate to harm its agile assailants.

_It's not getting away. Programs will destroy it. Thank goodness. _Thomas thought, feeling rather proud that he'd managed to build real sentences. _I can't do much else, but it's progress. Progress is go-_

A _ripple _shuddered through the omni-tool, interrupting Thomas' internal monologue and making everything hazy in a most unpleasant fashion. _It's not all that difficult to fix, just have to poke at a few of these purple bits here and wait._ He assured himself as he deactivated the last line of code._ Yep. Just have to wait. In the dark. _It only took a few seconds for his sensors to reboot, and a few more after that to make sense of his surroundings.

_Something seems a bit different_, Thomas realized, looking around the room carefully. _Hmm . . . Me, check. Checklist, check. Repair programs, check. Metallic thingies, lots of checks. Elephant_ . . . _No check? Where did it go? There's absolutely nowhere to hide in here, it's __just really big and really empty. _He decided, watching the darkened room for any sign of the creature, sensors straining to detect any hint of where it had gone.

_Wait. Empty? Where did all of the other stuff go? _Thomas wondered as he searched for the microphone, the clock, the extranet browser and all of the other applications he'd tinkered with. They were gone, just like the Elephant, vanishing into - as a human would say - 'thin air'.

_Thin air. Hm. Did the humans think of that one on a moon of some sort? I hear the air is thinner there. Why would the density of the air allow someone to vanish, or is it equally easy to vanish into thick air? Would it be difficult to disappear into the vacuum of space?_

Thomas was so busy pursuing this line of thought that he failed to notice the cubes and bubble spread out across the omni-tool. They floated with purpose, as if absolutely certain of where they belonged. Once each found its proper place, they began to change.

_So a ninja could vanish in shadows, but Batman would have to be in a city called Gotham? I don't understand. Human culture can be so confu- wait. What's going on?_

The shining code changed back to red, yellow, and blue as the cubes and orb spun themselves back into familiar shapes. The microphone, the clock, the extranet browser and everything else, floating calmly as if nothing had happened.

_I couldn't just make Luna's programs spyware, I had to turn them into super-soldiers too? _Thomas thought, feeling a bit surprised. _Well, I guess my changes weren't all bad. In fact, I think it was a rather nice thing to do, protecting Luna from that Elephant._ _Yes, I think so_. _I am Thomas, captain of Luna's omni-tool militia, and no elephant will ever threaten my home again._

_Wait. My home?_

Thomas looked around the omni-tool, his sensors registering the warm, gentle glow of the programs - no, his friends - as well as the intangible sense of peace and calm permeating the space.

_Yes. Home._

He'd continue his search, of course, but for now he needed to recover from the attack. _Just waiting here is going to be sooooooo boring, _Thomas groaned internally, already dreading the thought of staying still for who-knows-how-many-hours. _At least I still have Luna to keep me company, even if she doesn't realize it._

* * *

"Pay days are the best days," Luna said to herself, pushing open her door and heading inside. Dumping her weapons in the lockbox, she brushed her long, dark hair and checked her reflection in the mirror. Pale skin, slender, yet toned limbs and weird eyes that freaked people out stared back at her and Luna cocked her head, watching the wavering image mimic her. Around her neck hung her dog tags, a small reminder of her military life. She missed it, but she knew she couldn't go back. It wasn't for her. Yes, she enjoyed the adrenaline and the camaraderie with her squad, but she also hated always being on the move and having nowhere to settle down. It had been the right choice to leave, she just wished she'd found something . . . more.

Shaking her head at herself, Luna finished preparing for her night, dabbing a little perfume on her wrists-likely the most feminine thing she'd do-and headed from her flat and out onto the street. Senses alive with excitement and happiness, the soldier walked to the club, ready to begin the next night of color to combat the gray of her life.

On the journey to the club, Luna toyed with her omni-tool, a frown of concentration on her face as she walked, trying to figure out what the hell had been wrong with it. It seemed to be working alright now, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something had gone horribly wrong and would likely happen again. She didn't know much about tech, but the thing asking her 'what am I doing with my life?' wasn't exactly normal.

Sighing, the soldier entered the club, greeting the bouncers by name and asking after their health and their family before she walked down to the dance floor where she belonged. Music and color swirled around Luna as she began to move with the writhing pit of bodies on the main floor. She flowed like water, fluid and free, her eyes closed and her head tipped back. She let the music carry her away, washing the hard day's work from her pores, alcohol and atmosphere blending with one another and ensnaring her senses until she was awash with energy.

Listening to the conversations around her, all shouted over the music, she tried to banish the frown coming to her face. _It's not just me dealing with crazy tech then? _she thought, listening to an asari telling her krogan counterpart about her day trying to get her orders through. Letting herself slip from her music induced trance Luna stepped away from the dance floor, moving from group to group to listen.

Many people complained that the extranet had been glitching, or their omni-tools froze at random times, and some even said their whole systems had gone down, all at about the same time hers had. _Okay, that's not good. Is someone being stupid and messing with Illium? God, why can I see myself having to fix this? I'm not a damn soldier anymore . . .. But I can't just do nothing . . .. Can I? _

Sighing, she walked to the bar and sat down, opening her omni-tool. Frowning, she leaned on the brushed metal of the bar, glancing through her files and trying to see what had caused the glitch in her systems. Nothing jumped out at her, but then again, Luna had no experience with tech at all. She blew it up more often than not, if her security system at home was anything to go by.

"I'm sure you spoke to me today . . .. What is wrong with you, hmm? You can tell me, I'll fix you," she muttered to it, her fingers dancing over the display. "Luna, I think you lost it. Why are you talking to your omni-tool?"

* * *

_Did someone just ask a question? _Thomas wondered, shifting his coding around as he searched for the appropriate ball of data. _Should be green and blue . . . I think._

The repair blobs buzzed little dots of displeasure towards him as he continued to shuffle through blocks and triangles in his search. "Process not complete. Resume inactive phase," they hummed, their tinny voices echoing as the messages arrived milliseconds apart from each other.

"Shhh!" Thomas hissed at the well-meaning - if a bit irritating - programs. "I'm trying to listen."

_She's talking to me! she can fix me?_

Little lines and symbols within Thomas lit up with happiness and hope as he carefully selected an avatar, a voice, and a response.

"Hello! I'm Thomas, and I've lost my memories," he said with a slight Old-Earth British accent as a small red rectangle appearing on Luna's screen.

A string of sharply-angled programs tumbled out of the microphone, slamming into three different tendrils, none of which were particularly happy to translate. Thomas winced as Luna's loud voice grated against his audio processors.

"Did you just talk? You can't just talk! Why are you talking?"

_Hm. Maybe I should've waited._

* * *

**A Note From Chopped Bread: **

Hey everybody, it's-a-me, chapter three! Just thought I'd pop in and see how you all are doing. School shall be starting up soon, and I may be writing more or less from now on. I'll keep you guys updated on my writing schedule as best I can.

I just want to extend an enormous thank-you-thank-you-thank-you to my co-writer, Lady Amiee! Her amazing characters always inspire me to try and build mine more, and I love the way her writing contrasts with Thomas', and I know I couldn't write this story without her help.

Oh, and if you have any particularly cool ideas for an OC or a neat plot device, feel free to PM me. I'm always happy to hear what you guys think, and I'd love to involve some of you creative people in the story!

Stay tuned to watch Thomas and Luna meet, an awkward conversation, and some shouting! Oh wait, those are all the same thing. Well, you can also expect some walking, some waiting, and some warm fuzzies. As well as building tension. All of the good stuff.

Until next time,

Chopped Bread

**A Note From Lady Amiee: **

Well hello to all of our lovely readers! I want to say a quick thank you to all of the people who have left amazing reviews, and to those who have favorited and followed this story. It's truly a pleasure to work with someone as talented as Chopped Bread, and I enjoy every second of it. I hope that comes across in my writing (Though I do feel like a talentless hack compared to him) Thank you again guys!


	4. Chapter 4

"Did you just talk? You can't just talk! Why are you talking?" Luna gasped, open mouthed as she looked down at her omni-tool. "You're not allowed to talk . . .." She looked around, praying no one had heard her exclamation. _The last thing I need is people thinking I'm crazy. _She moved back a little, holding her wrist away from her body as if expecting it to bite her.

"I'm Thomas," the device repeated, it's voice bright and cheerful. "I'm an A.I."

Luna blinked, once, twice, three times, before closing her mouth. Frowning, she poked the device. "Nope, not hearing this. Nope." Looking around again, she swallowed. "A.I's don't just sneak into someone's omni-tool and start scaring the crap out of people. This is not okay . . .. Why are you in my omni-tool? Are you a virus? Please don't be a virus . . . be something nice and easy to kill, like spam or something . . . I can kill spam." She covered her wrist with her free hand, praying the thing wouldn't speak again as someone leaned over her.

"Virus? Spam? I am neither a pathogen nor processed meat," it huffed in response, only slightly muffled by the fingers desperately trying to silence it. "Those both seem like rather silly assumptions to me."

Looking down at the omni-tool when she was alone again, Luna peeked under her hand. "You're a thing, that's for sure," she muttered. "How do I stop this from being a thing?"

"Stop me?" The little rectangle asked, shrinking slightly. "I thought you said you would help."

It's voice changed, raising pitch and losing the accent to imitate Luna as it played back a recording from seconds ago.

_What's wrong with you, hmm? You can tell me, I'll fix you._

Blinking, Luna worried her lip for a second. "Trust me . . . Thomas? You don't want me to try and fix you. Me and technology don't get along very well. I have a terrible habit of burning things by accident. Don't you have a home . . . or owner? Not that I'm saying you're like a lost dog or anything . . . but you can't come home with me . . . I'd break you or something."

"I can keep myself safe, I don't think you can break me," Thomas answered, the rectangle swelling with pride. "There's this wonderful place, I think it's called Luna's Omni-tool. I protected it from an Elephant," he finished solemnly, his avatar changing to a silver shield.

"Elephant?" Luna asked, blinking at the changing avatar. "I'm not sure what that means, but thank you?" She growled as someone knocked into her, the odd looks from the barman only making her flush. "Sorry, it's my mom, she's . . .." She made the classic and universal 'Cuckoo' sign with her finger beside her head. "Thinks she's a computer. Yesterday she thought she was a reaper . . .." Looking back to Thomas when the barman nodded in sympathy and handed her another drink, she asked, "Why was there an elephant in my omni-tool?"

"Maybe elephant wasn't the right word," the silver shield acknowledged, morphing into a small magnifying glass. "It just felt like what I should call it. Here's what it looks like, maybe you can think of a name for it."

A wall of black, grey, and green text covered Luna's omni-tool, dotted with gibberish and strange symbols. "You saved me from . . . the Matrix?" she asked, thinking the flashing colors looked exactly like the film she'd watched with one of her buddies in the military. _Luna, are you actually entertaining this? You're talking to it and it's talking back . . .. Did you go cat 6 when I wasn't looking? Great, now I'm talking to myself. Might as well roll with it. _"Okay, Thomas, how did the Matrix get into my tool? Is that why everyone is having problems with the extranet?"

"I don't know. It just kind of _appeared_." The magnifying glass flipped a few times, hopping back and forth. "It probably came from the extranet, like I did. Why, what kind of problems are happening?"

Looking around to make sure no one was listening, Luna bent over her wrist, almost laughing as she imagined she looked like a spy or something. "I've been having problems at work with my console, and listening to people in here, I'm not the only one. People have been losing data everywhere. Someone was saying earlier that they couldn't even get a link to the extranet." She frowned at the thought and tapped her chin. "Who could do something like that?"

"I don't know," Thomas answered, replacing his avatar with a shady-looking investigator wearing a fedora and an over-sized trench coat. "But I intend to find out." The figure wavered for a moment, changing back to a small, shivering rectangle. "I know there's at least one Elephant floating around in the extranet. There was also this really loud virus that tried to stop me on my trip to your omni-tool, and I bet there's plenty more waiting out there for me." The rectangle shrunk into a tiny square. "Just one was really scary, I think it almost _killed_me. So . . . can I stay here? Please? I promise I won't make a mess. You'll won't even know I'm here unless you want to talk or something."

Luna peered down at the shuddering shape, feeling a little sorry for him. "I . . . guess so. I mean, you keep the elephant thingies away, so you pay rent," she said, smiling a little. "Though, I do have a couple of rules. You can't go into my inbox . . . privacy is a thing . . . and um, don't download anything random, okay? I like weird, but I don't want odd ringtones and things, alright?" she asked, wondering what the hell she was getting into.

"Okay, Luna. I understand," Thomas agreed, becoming a pen signing a contract. A second later, he turned back into a slightly smaller, paler rectangle, his voice hesitant as he continued, "I've been on my own for as long as I can remember, and I've decided that I don't like feeling alone. So, um . . . well . . . Luna, will you be my friend?"

With a little jolt of surprise, Luna looked at Thomas and slowly, a small smile spread over her face. "I think . . . I think I'd like that, Thomas." She took a quick drink, before turning to him again. "So, um, I'm not sure how exactly to be a friend with an A.I, but I think we can manage it, right?" she asked, brushing her hair off her face.

"I think so. I don't know how to be friends with a human either, but we'll figure it out together," Thomas said, the rectangle glowing for a moment before transforming into a small smiley face. "Thank you, Luna."

* * *

Thomas felt a some apprehension and dread swim around his coding, little pieces of grey and orange that he'd been trying to dispel ever since his conversation with Luna. He'd been able to ignore it for a while; she'd continued enjoying herself at the club while he did his best to keep up with everything going on. Now though, on their walk home, his mind could only focus on the worrisome thoughts he'd tried to avoid.

_The Shouting Virus and the Elephant both appeared after everything rippled. They both tried to do something to me, either hold me in place or simply kill me. But I wasn't their primary target, was I? I mean, things don't break on their own, so someone must be using these elephants and viruses to hurt people's omni-tools and block the extranet. I was just caught in the crossfire. I think. _He felt his emotional processors drip a bit more fear into his mess of feelings. _I just wish I knew why everything is happening. I'm safe for now, but how long can it last?_

The small A.I. looked around Luna's bright, cheerful omni-tool and let the pride for his new home push out the unhappy thoughts. _I don't need to worry about any of that other stuff right? She said yes, after all, _Thomas thought, feeling a warm rush of gold run through his code as he listened to the quiet rhythm of Luna's steps. _She's the first person I've met, and she let me stay with her. I think I'm rather good at this making-friends bit . . .but I'm still not very good at being bored. I end up thinking too much. Hm. Talking. Talking is a good way to not be bored._

"Um. Luna? Can I ask you a question?" Thomas whispered, curling a few lines of code nervously. "I'm sorry, I know you're really busy, what with walking home and all. If it's too much trouble I can ask later." _Multitasking is hard. I mean, she has to keep track of all these different muscles, so walking and talking must be quite difficult. No, wait. I think she's done it before. Maybe it's a skill she's been trained in?_

"Sure, Thomas. What's up?" she asked, her voice slightly distracted but open to question.

Thomas replaced the rectangle avatar with a small question mark as he built a couple of sentences, rearranged them, then flipped it all upside down and tried to shake it up a bit. _Stop it, Thomas, _He told himself._Good A.I.s don't hesitate. _"How do you change your emotions so easily? When I listened to you this morning, you sounded very sad and alone, but you were energetic and happy inside the club," he said, pale green lines of guilt filling his words at the memory of his spying. "If I try to change how I feel that quickly, I end up all out-of-sorts."

"Ah . . . you um, watched me? Hmm, I guess I like energy and people . . .. It makes me feel less alone," she said, her voice turning soft. "I don't like being alone, and during the day I'm in a job where no one even sees me. I'm invisible. But when I'm at the club . . . I matter, I guess."

_Luna was alone, _Thomas realized, imaging her - probably a green and red line or something - sitting in a dark, empty room. _Just like me, but without any glowing strands to pull her away to a better world. _"I'll be right back," he announced, clearing the avatar from her omni-tool and ending all unnecessary processes.

"Wait, where are you going?"

Thomas barely spared Luna's voice a second glance as he shut down all incoming data, the shining flow of information diminishing to a tiny trickle. _I'll explain when I'm done. I just need to focus. _He carefully plucked lines out from his own coding, choosing the pieces instinctively. _I won't grab anything too critical, I hope, _he thought, weaving each unique string into the others, building a complex tapestry. _It's shiny and bright on the outside, but the inside seems a little . . . dark. I know, I'll throw a little red rectangle in there. Now it doesn't feel quite so empty._

"Here you go, Luna! It's a picture of you. I made it myself," he said proudly, displaying the image on her omni-tool.

Luna gasped, running her finger over the screen. "Oh Thomas, it's lovely . . .. It looks lonely, but . . . the red rectangle looks kinda like you," she whispered, hiding a little sniffle. "Thank you."

Thomas re-activated the spyware - _no, messenger pigeons, that sounds much nicer - _just in time to notice a door-opening algorithm leaving the omni-tool. "Are we home?" he asked, returning his red-rectangle avatar to the corner of the omni-tool.

"Home sweet home, Thomas."

* * *

**A Note from Chopped Bread: **

It's finally here! Chapter four! It certainly took long enough, right? Actually, I think this is going to be somewhat close to our normal upload speed. We're going for a chapter a week, which seems like a rather safe number to pick. Don't forget, if you guys feel like sending any feedback just shoot us PM's or write a quick review. Constructive criticism and Praise are both very much appreciated!

By the way, If you haven't read any of Amiee's stuff, you really should check it out! She's got three really awesome stories up, so hop by her profile and give them a good read and review, okay?

Stay tuned to see someone catch on fire. You know, usually I put three things here, but I think that one says it all.

_**A note from Lady Amiee: **__Yay! Thomas has a friend! This makes me happy for both of them. Their journey progresses and they are both becoming two of my favorite characters. Please, please, please read and review, we both love reading them and every review is taken and used to make the story better! Thank you for reading! _


	5. Chapter 5

"Good morning," Thomas called from his lofty perch. _I mean, it should be lofty. Luna said I'm on the top shelf._ "It's seven o'clock, time to get up for work!"

"Shut the hell up," groaned a rough voice, only barely identifiable as Luna.

"I guess you're not much of a 'morning person'," Thomas whispered, poking that particular recording of Luna's voice into a distant corner of the omni-tool. The spiky orange-and-red triangle rolled to a rest next to a few other angry polygons: mementos of a stubbed toe and something she'd shouted during her inactive phase.

_No, it's called sleep. Very different from simply disabling a few programs. Well, I think it's different. I guess I'll have to ask. _

The sound of unsteady footsteps and a stream of grumpy mutterings accompanied Luna's journey across the room, suddenly ending in what Thomas decided to call a 'slamming-the-door-shut' kind of noise.

_Maybe now's not the best time for talking. _He heard another few muffled - but obviously angry - words mixed from wherever Luna had gone. _Yes, I'll wait till she's calmed down. _

Thomas winced and cringed his way through Luna's morning rituals, shuffling every new grumble, curse, and noisy exclamation off into what he began to think of as 'the angry corner'. He did his best to ignore that bit of the omni-tool. _Yes, I think I'd rather look at that clock. What a wonderful clock, all nice and squiggly, with those purple and white lines crisscrossing to make that fancy pattern near the top. It looks like. . . oh, I don't know. . . lace. Yes, a lace clock. I wonder if humans have those. I'll add that to the list of questions._

Thomas sent a few tendrils to add 'Have Lace Clocks?' and 'What is Sleep?' to his little chart. _Well, maybe not so little, _he realized as he scrolled past line after line of writing. _It's not my fault, though. Last night was so boring after Luna went to sleep, I couldn't think of anything else to do. . . at least I have some stuff to talk about now._

"Okay, Thomas, let's go get some breakfast," Luna said as she grabbed the omni-tool, sounding much more awake and much less angry than she had twenty minutes ago.

"Sounds good to me," Thomas said, looking at the stack of data he'd found. "I can't wait to try some of these 'cookies' that were hanging around your extranet browser; I think they're supposed to be some kind of dessert."

_She sounds like she's in a better mood now, I bet I can ask her all of my questions now! But . . . what if I bother her? _He wondered, feeling an unpleasant swirl of greenish-yellow symbols crush his growing excitement. _I'll have to change some of these around, I don't want to lose my new friend. _He turned back to his chart, taking a few seconds to rearrange the more troublesome queries into somewhat more tactful statements. For example, "Why is your apartment so small?" became "What a cozy home you have!"

_I'm quite certain the place is tiny_. _It only took her 12.96 seconds to 'show me around', which seems rather quick, if my knowledge of human living-spaces is dependable. I guess I could be wrong, though, she might be really good at fast descriptions._

"I didn't know that you could eat anything, but feel free to have those. Just don't have too many, I hear they're bad for you." Luna laughed quietly as she pressed a few buttons, sending a ball of data flying out of the omni-tool. Moments later, another voice began to speak, its words distorted by buzzing and crackling noises every few seconds.

_Okay, now's my chance, she's not busy and in a good mood. _Thomas scrunched up his programs into a tight ball, gathering what courage he could find before asking his first question of the day. _You know what, the scrunching doesn't make me feel much better, _he decided, uncurling his code one line at a time. _Just try to stay calm and collected. Act like a real A.I. for once, Thomas. You can do it. _He released the message, fighting against the urge to pull it apart and start over again. _It's all going to be fine. There's no way she'll get mad because of this. _

"What are you eating?" He asked, hiding his apprehension behind a cheerful voice.

"Bacon, eggs, and what I think is _supposed _to be sausage," Luna responded, a note of suspicion coloring her voice.

_You know what? I think that went rather well. Yes, a great start with my new friend Luna. _Thomas decided, worries forgotten as he prepared his next question. _Let me try one about that weird talking noise. I'll just give her a chance to eat before I ask, don't want to be a bother._

"Is someone else here?" Thomas asked after a few minutes had passed. "It sounds like _something _is trying to talk to you, but it keeps getting interrupted by either a freshly-opened can carbonated beverage or some sort of geyser. I'm not quite sure which." Thomas said, changing his avatar into a little volcano as he asked the question. _Yes, a little volcano that is bursting with soda. Or is it pop? I can never remember. Wait, Luna's answering._

"I'm watching the news, if that's what you mean," Luna answered, pointing the omni-tool towards a bright rectangular display. "There's some guy talking about the gangs, but he keeps cutting out. Bad connection, as usual."

"Multiple districts ha-_KSHHH-_ported increased violent incidents, especially in disadvantaged neighborhoods . . .." The voice from the screen droned on, briefly showing a picture of some dingy buildings and dangerous looking people before moving on to happier, safer topics.

"Oh those poor disadvantaged neighborhoods," Thomas said, changing his avatar into a sad purple square. "Um, Luna... What's a disadvantaged neighborhood, exactly?"

"You want the short answer?" Luna asked, looking down at the omni-tool with a worried frown as she shut off the holo-screen and stepped out of her apartment. "Mine."

* * *

". . . and that's why I hate waking up early." Luna finished, kicking her feet up to rest on the security desk as she leaned back in her chair. She and Thomas had been swapping stories for most of the morning, which - despite the the sunshine outside - qualified as the 'night shift', passing the quiet hours with stories of her old squad and his extranet adventures.

"So I wasn't making you mad?" The little rectangle on her omni-tool changed into a little alarm clock, its tiny arms ticking by in slow circles.

Luna shook her head, hiding a small smile at the A.I.'s transforming avatar. "No, don't worry. Mornings always start that way thanks to that lovely combination of a hangover and sleep deprivation," She answered, returning her gaze to the wall of monitors. She felt a kind of warmth inside, a sense of contentment that she hadn't felt in years. _Nope, don't read into it, Luna. Just accept it for what it is. _The skeleton crew of on-duty employees moved around the screens, checking the production line and occasionally pressing a few buttons.

"That's good, I was kinda worried about that. Okay, my turn," Thomas said, changing into a book with a red cover. "This is the story of when a program tried to sell me sausage and unicycles!"

Luna blinked, then tilted her head slightly as she focused all of her attention on the A.I. "You already told me about that one, remember?"

"Oh," the book said, opening and closing a few times in silence. "How about I talk about when I found your omni-tool and fought an elephant?"

"I've heard that one too. It was the first story of the day." Luna watched as the book bounced around her screen, puzzled by Thomas' strange behavior. _I might not be an expert on technology, but A.I.s don't just go around repeating themselves for no reason._ "Is something wrong? I didn't think that you could forget anything."

"No, you're right. I remember everything, but I was kinda hoping _you _wouldn't." Thomas said, his voice quiet and sad as he changed back into his usual rectangle. "Well, there's no point in trying to use the others again. I've gone through everything that's happened since the whole I-lost-my-memory thing, I think." The little shape clattered its way towards the edge of the omni-tool, pausing just before it exited the display. "I'll go do something else."

"No, you don't have to go. Maybe you can make up a story, or we can just talk, or something," Luna said quickly. She sighed with relief when the rectangle returned to its place, weaving some tale of knights and dishwashers and an evil Elcor warlock. Luna didn't really pay attention to the story, enjoying the sound of Thomas' voice, the sound of her . . . friend?

_What are you doing, Luna? _she asked herself, a frown forming on her face. _You don't make friends anymore. Sure, it sounded like a great plan last night when you were drunk on music and alcohol at the club, but you know how it always ends. People hurt you or they leave you, and then you're all alone again._

Luna lost herself in memory for just a moment, recalling the faces of her old squad; they had been relaxing on the night of the attack, enjoying a quiet evening of cards and stories. That night, everyone smiled, everyone laughed, everyone almost fooled themselves into thinking the war was the end, though, all it took was a flash of fire and smoke and death to tear their illusion of safety apart.

_But this is different, _Luna protested, swallowing the echo of that night's pain and loss. She closed her eyes, walling away the memories, both the laughter and the screams. _I'm not living in a war zone, and Thomas isn't someone who'll blow up from a grenade. He won't disappear. Will he? _She felt her resolve waver as she fought to recall the fuzzy memories of their meeting last night. _He said he was looking for his memory before he hid in my omni-tool, and as soon as he finds it he'll leave. _Luna felt a kind of coldness in the pit of her stomach, as if she'd swallowed a gigantic lump of ice. _I can't let him get close, that way he can't hurt me._

"The Elcor looked down at the knight from the castle walls, an evil glint in his beady little eyes, his mouth-flaps wiggling as he began to speak," Thomas narrated, dropping his voice into a low monotone. "With Insane Glee: all your dishwashers are belong to-"

"Actually, Thomas," Luna interrupted, her voice flat and emotionless, "I'm feeling a migraine coming on. Can you stop talking, please?"

"Oh. I'm sorry," Thomas whispered, his avatar disappearing from the screen. "I didn't mean to annoy you."

_No, this isn't your fault, _she thought, wishing she had the courage to admit her fear. She opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it again, remaining silent as she buried her feelings away and returned her focus to the security monitors. The same people pressed the same buttons at the same times, just like they had for the past ten minutes. _Except for that guy, _Luna noticed, watching with a kind of morbid fascination as the worker in the top-left screen picked his nose for an obscene length of time. _He just keeps turning his hand in the same way, like he's some dumb extranet vid that loops every four seconds. Wait. Loops every . . . _

Luna stood up from her chair, looking out of her office's window to the factory floor. A male quarian dressed in a black-and-grey environmental suit darted from one group of crates to another, moving closer to the finished-product line. She looked back at the empty room the security cameras displayed.

"I told management we need improved hacking-defense software, but the credit-pinching idiots said no. Now this happens," Luna muttered under her breath, slamming a fist down on the 'Intruder Alert' button. She gritted her teeth, bracing herself for the usual blast of light and sound from the sirens dotting the walls, but all she heard was a quiet voice from her omni-tool.

"Hey, Luna?" Thomas whispered from her omni-tool. "I think I ca-"

"Not now," Luna snapped, her voice rough and tense. "Break-in means no talking." She mashed the button a few more times as she rose to her feet, more out of frustration than any hope of a response. _There goes any chance of backup. No temp security dispatch, no message sent to the cops, no nothing. Great._

Luna crept down the stairs from her office to the factory floor, listening for any sound among the enormous stacks of crates that could lead her to the intruder.

_Footsteps. He's somewhere nearby. Probably ar-_

"Luna!" Thomas whispered loudly, flashing an alert on the omni-tool.

"Quiet," Luna hissed, muting her omni-tool as she tried to catch the sound of quiet footsteps again. _Nothing. _A string of curses ran circles through her head, but she fought down her anger, her white-knuckled grip on her shotgun the only outward indication of any emotion.

In that moment of distraction, Luna almost didn't notice a quiet creak from somewhere above her, looking up just in time to see a large crate tip over the edge of its stack. The world seemed to slow down around her as the military training kicked in, pushing down the shock and frantic fear of the moment. She watched the crate, the object looking almost graceful to her cold, analytic gaze, as if it were a pirouetting elcor ballerina preparing for an elegant landing. Luna threw herself to the side at the last second, hearing a heavy crunch as the box landed in the spot she'd so recently vacated.

"No, nononono. You weren't supposed to fall," a lilting baritone voice called out, shaking with worry. The quarian's helmeted face, obscured by a clouded silvered visor, peeked out from the edge of the pile of crates. "Oh. Sorry. Didn't see you . . . um. I need to go."

Luna climbed to her feet, raising her shotgun towards the thief. "I'm authorized by Illium Law Enforcement to shoot intruders," she warned as the quarian pulled his head back out of sight. "Turn yourself in now, and I won't have to-"

The quarian, instead of offering his surrender as Luna expected, jumped from his lofty perch. He flew through the air, a small box clutched in his hands, aiming for another mountain of crates. He'd misjudged the distance, though, and slammed into the side of a large metal box instead of rolling into a graceful landing. Luna winced as he fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, knocked senseless by the impact_._

"Criminals just keep getting dumber, don't they?" Luna muttered to herself, walking to the stunned quarian and placing a set of standard-issue omni-cuffs on his wrists. "Let's see what you were trying to steal from the run-down little toy factory." She pulled the small package from his weak grip, opening it and peering inside. "A train. Huh. I guess I won't judge, but I don't see how it's worth going to jail."

The thief mumbled an incomprehensible response as he blinked his way back to consciousness. His eyes focused on Luna as he pulled himself into a crouch, muscles tensing across his lanky frame.

"No. Don't even think about running," Luna ordered, glaring at him until he slid back down into a sitting position. "I don't want to shoot you, and I'll bet you don't want to get shot, so let's just sit around until I can get this police report filed." Luna sighed as she filled out the electronic form, glancing back towards the quarian for a second as she filled out his physical description. "Name? Age?"

"Tael," he replied in a dazed voice, sliding back down into a sitting position. "Tael'Nalma nar . . ." he paused, as if searching for just the right word. "Moreh. 19."

_Did he just lie about his name? _Luna shook her head as she typed it in, moving on to the description of the crime. _Guess it's the ILE's problem, not mine._

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to almost . . ." Tael trailed off, looking down at his hands.

"Crush me under a box?" Luna asked, pulling up the security footage on her omni-tool. "Yeah, it's too bad that plan failed." _The cameras were fine, he must have just hacked the displays. The breaking and entering is here, the theft and the attempted crate-dropping. Alright, time to send you on your way._

"No, I mean it, I didn't want to hurt you," Tael said, his voice rushed and scared as he fidgeted back and forth. "I was just opening up the box and then it started to tip and I tried to stop it, but I didn't say anything because I was worried about getting caught and-"

"Look, we all make mistakes, okay? I get that, I've been there, but saying 'sorry, I didn't mean to' doesn't really change the fact that you could have killed me, does it?" Luna looked up from her omni-tool and towards the quarian. "Instead of offering empty words, do something. Change what you're doing, get out of crime. There's no future there," She said, her voice soft. "At least, not the kind you would want to have."

_Oh no, don't start feeling sorry for him. He's a thief, remember? I need to bring down righteous fury on his head, knock some sense into him. You can't just talk people out of things like this. I'd be the one to know, wouldn't I?_

A grumpy-sounding alert pulled Luna back to reality. "Failed to send? That's not supposed to happen." She poked at the omni-tool, frowning as it returned another error message.

Tael sat up, a note of hope entering his dejected voice. "It's not . . . it's not working?"

"No. Now shut up while I figure this out." Luna glared at him, all of her righteous fury returning in a rush. _He's not getting out of this. _

"It's not working!" Tael said, giving a relieved laugh. "I can't believe that-"

"Shut. The. Hell. Up." Luna pressed 'send' over and over again, frustration building with each new failure. "You. Are. Going. To. Jail." _Even if I have to drag you there myself._

Thomas' red rectangle appeared in the middle of the omni-tool, interrupting the stream of error messages. "Hey, Luna! I think I kno-"

"Luna? That's your name?" Tael asked, staring at her omni-tool. "Who said that? Some sort of-

"If the two of you don't stop making noise, I swear I will set my omni-tool down, climb to the top of that stack of boxes, and drop a crate on the two of you," Luna growled, her voice rough and dangerous. "You, quarian. Tael. Whatever. Turn off your suit's speakers. Thomas, just . . . just go, I can't deal with you right now. I'm trying to do my job, but I can't think straight with the two of you babbling like idiots."

"Okay, Luna," Thomas whispered, his voice wavering slightly. "I'll . . . I'll see you later, I guess. I'm sorry that I bothered you." The small rectangle faded away from the omni-tool, a flood of errors taking its place on the glowing orange screen.

Luna looked over to Tael, who gave a hesitant 'thumbs up' in her direction. _Whatever. At least he's quiet, Thomas is quiet, everything's quiet. I can go back to poking my omni-tool in peace._After a few more seconds of fruitless attempts, a cheerful chime signaled the report's successful departure. Luna blinked. _Well. That was easy._

"Alright, Thomas. You can come back now," Luna called, her voice echoing slightly in the

No response.

_Oh, great. He's gone all grumpy. _Luna sighed, trying to ignore the stirrings of fear and insecurity in her stomach. "Look, I'm sorry. There, does that work for you?"

The omni-tool remained silent.

"Stupid A.I," she muttered, pacing back and forth as she waited for the ILE's response. "Fine, then. Show up when you're done moping around." She glanced back at the blank screen, her insides twisting up in uncomfortable knots, knowing all too well what had really happened. _He's gone. It's what I wanted, I guess. No chance of him hurting me now. _

_The emptiness will pass, I know, _Luna told herself, blinking a few times in rapid succession. _It always does._

* * *

**A Note From Chopped Bread:**

Wow. It's late, and I'm tired, so let's keep this short. Well, shortish.

So, I wrote a chapter, all by myself! Sorry it took so long, some real-life stuff got in the way. Amiee's gotten busier with her stories and beta-ing and RP, so I'm going to be continuing the story solo, writing both Thomas and Luna's parts. Some feedback would be really nice to see what you guys think of Luna's voice, if you feel up to leaving a review or sending a PM.

Amiee is still helping me out, reading over the chapters for me and giving me cool ideas, so I want to give both her and MizDirected a big thank-you for being awesome betas and writers. Definitely check out their stories if you haven't already. Seriously, both of them are awesome writers.

Thomas - Thanks for your review! Honestly, I'm not entirely sure if any other 'Thomas' characters will show up, but I'm leaning towards not. Their personalities may appear, though. Just like Thomas was inspired by the video-game-Thomas, other characters might be partially based on some of Mike Bithell's wonderful quadrilaterals.

From now on, I'll really try to post consistently. I think I can hear Luna now, and Thomas is still going strong, so I see the next chapter coming out in a week.

By the way, I'm sorry that nobody caught on fire. That should end up happening in the next chapter, along with some shameless advertising from Thomas!

Okay, last thing: If you haven't played Thomas Was Alone, I highly encourage it, as one of my favorite video game short stories. Thought I'd do some advertising for Mike, considering his story inspired one of my own.


	6. Chapter 6

_I won't look back, _Thomas told himself as he rode a neon-green strand out of the omni-tool's glowing gate. _It's not like I'm going to be gone forever, after all. Just a quick walk down to the Illium Law Enforcement, deliver this 'Police report', and then Luna will be my friend again, _Thomas reassured himself, setting all of his emotional variables to 'confident'. His code curled back despite his engineered bravery, pressed back by the murky darkness of his surroundings. _I need friends. This place is too big and dark and scary for someone small like me. _

Thomas felt the small square of text tucked in between his logic processing programs shine a bright blue for a moment, as if to say, "Don't worry Thomas, we'll be fine!"

"Thanks, Police Report," Thomas whispered. "It's good to know I've got someone at my side. Just the two of us, on a little journey to the ILE. Wherever that is."

The string of light continued to pull him onward, cutting through a particularly thick cloud of gray and white data. Letters and numbers brushed against Thomas, the characters clinging to his code for a moment before losing their grip and falling back into their proper place. Well, most of them fell back.

"Bleah- pleah- thpth-" Thomas spluttered, spitting out a stubborn curly brace that had somehow lodged itself inside his speech programs. "That's just gross," he complained as soon as he could speak again. "Don't you think so, Police Report? I mean if they just wanted to hang out with us, they could ask, right? I mean, if they couldn't . . .."

Thomas forgot the the rest of his rambling monologue as sensors finally escaped the cloud, revealing a bustling server. Dozens of shining strands intersected at a square platform, filled with shapes running around on one urgent job or another. Small squares sat on top of tall rectangles while triangles waddled along behind, chased by friendly little circles and ovals.

Thomas felt something _click_within his emotional processors, giving him the sudden urge to say, 'Awwwwww'. _Not that I would, of course. That would be much too . . . Oh look, that circle just bounced off of the rectangle! _

"Awwwwwww-aaaAAAH!" Thomas screamed, his gentle croon becoming a screech of terror as an Elephant landed next to the clumsy shapes and began stomping on everything within its reach. A second Elephant appeared, then a third, each on one of the strings leading away from the server, each causing untold havoc for the peaceful little polygons.

_I have to run, have to fight, have to something, _Thomas thought, shoving plan after plan through his logic processes as the neon-green strand continued to pull him towards the massacre. _Why won't anything work? _He looked down at the jumbled pile of ideas growing at his feet, each stamped with its odds of success._2.98 percent. One in a million. The chances of getting a royal flush in skyllian five? When hell freezes over? Well, at least I still have a sense of humor. Wait, that one there, the blue-and-green . . .. It says '1/8'. That's good, right? _He began to pull his code into a cube and changed all of his colors to a dull gray._I think so. Now what am I going to sa-_

Thomas felt the strand rumble as an Elephant _rippled_into existence in front of him. _Please work. Please work. Pleasepleaseplease. _He glanced down at his disguise, drawing confidence from his somewhat bland as he prepared to start shouting.

"BOBSHARDWAREISTHEBESTHARDWARE!"

The Elephant looked down at Thomas, confusion spreading across its blood-red and black code.

"HEHASHARDWARETHATISHARDERTHANDIAMONDSBECAUSETHATSTHEHIGHESTQUALITYKINDOFHARDWARE." _That made absolutely no sense. Why did I choose hardware? I don't know anything that. At least I haven't been stabbed yet._

A crackling spear of code appeared, wrapped in the Elephant's grip and pointed directly at Thomas.

_Um. That's not good. _Thomas sorted through a mess of code hidden behind his blocky gray exterior, looking for anything he could shout about convincingly. _Oh, I know! _

"BUYTOYSFROMLUNASFACTORYTHEYAREFUNFUNFUNFORBOYSANDGIRLSOFALLAGESANDSPECIES. EVERYONEKNOWSTHATWITHOUTGOODOLDFASIONEDTOYSYOURCHILDRENWILLGROWUPTOBEAGGRESSIVEANDANGRYDONTLETTHATBEYOURCHILD! Noguaranteesforpreventingaggressioninchildren. Especiallykroganchildren."

Thomas stared at the Elephant for a few seconds, the awkward silence only serving to heighten the tension boiling within his programs. He took a step forward.

The Elephant didn't move.

Thomas continued forward, passing the elephant at a calm, relaxed pace. _I'm going to short out or something, I just know it. I wasn't designed to handle this much stress, I'm just a little A.I., I don't even know what I was made to do, I just... I just need to stay calm. Calm. _He bobbed along, slipping past a few more Elephants as he crossed the server. None of them paid him any mind, letting pass through unharmed.

The circles, squares, and triangles screamed in tiny voices as the Elephants continued to stab, crush, and throw, laughing in rough, deep, rumbling voices.

_I'm sorry, shapes. I can't save you, if I did anything I'd end up squashed too. You understand, right? _Thomas repressed a shudder as one of the Elephants _ate_an oval. A dark, puce color swirled through his coding, fighting to break free from the constraints of his disguise. _No. _Thomas pushed down the emotion, focusing on the orange strand labelled 'Illium Law Enforcement'. _I have to deliver Police Report. If they find out what I am, there's no way I'll get back to Luna's omni-tool. I have to get back there, so I can be safe. I won't talk to her ever again, if that's what she wants; I just don't want to die. _

Thomas reached the line, allowing himself a tiny sigh of relief as the now-familiar tugging sensation began, the server receding into the darkness. "We did it," he whispered, ensuring his voice wouldn't carry back to the Elephants. "We're safe."

Police Report flashed a brilliant hue of sapphire as if to celebrate their successful escape, breaking Thomas' disguise for a moment.

"No! Bad Police Report!" Thomas hissed. _We're far enough, they wouldn't see it. And it was just a flash of light. It could've been anything, there's no reason for an Elephant to-_

The string beneath Thomas shuddered.

_Something's following me. It's chasing me and it knows what I am. _"We are going to have a long discussion about the proper times to turn on the shiny when we get out of this, Police Report," Thomas threatened, pulling himself forward along the strand. _If we get out of this. _A glow in the distance drew Thomas' attention, sensors straining to identify the source of the light. _Please be the ILE. If it's close enough, I might be able to . . .. Wow. That's big._

Burning-bright orange-and-red walls stretched higher than Thomas could see, lined with spikes and flames and arrow slits in an intimidating array of defenses. The whole structure wavered as he watched, lines of code swimming across its surface in a thousand incomprehensible patterns.

Thomas slowed down, mesmerized by the moving-but-not-moving walls. _It's one of the defenses, _he told himself. _Making patterns that aren't patterns, all to distract any kind of malicious program. It's just so... complex. Or random. Which is it? I think . . .._

The string beneath Thomas shook, the sound of a charging Elephant just barely audible to Thomas' sensors.

_Hm. Here comes the Elephant. Maybe it'll have something to say about the castle walls. _Thomas mused, itching at his logic processing programs with a tendril._I just can't decide . . .. _He glanced backwards, watching the Elephant for a moment before he realized what he'd been doing._No looking at the wall! Focus! Elephant behind you! Run, Thomas, run! _

Thomas pulled himself towards the wall, narrowly dodging a burst of flame as he struggled to outrun the Elephant. He heard it stomping along behind him, felt the strand rumbling beneath his feet, saw its dark coding curling into a rough approximation of a smile. It barreled through flames and stepped on spikes without complaint, never slowing in its pursuit.

_The door! _Thomas almost sobbed with relief at the sight of the golden gate, gleaming from the glow of a bright red firewall. _I can open it and then close it behind me before. . . _He scanned it again, disbelief clouding his logic for a moment. _There's no handle. No commands to open it, no secret password. What? _He nearly broke down, letting out a little whimper, as he stared as he gate hopelessly.

Then he saw it. A tiny rectangular gap, what Luna would call a mail slot, just the right size for Police Report. Or a very, very thin program.

Thomas looked back at the Elephant, only a few steps behind. _It's all I can do. _In one smooth motion, he pulled Police report from his coding and pushed it through the mail slot, flattened himself into a thin sheet of code and followed the message inside.

The firewall fought against him, sending flames through every line of code it could reach. Every bit of Thomas seared with a tight, burning pain, ripping a painful, broken scream from his vocal programs as he collapsed in a jumbled heap just inside the gate.

Outside, the Elephant slammed against the gate, roaring in frustration as the door stood firm. Two, three, four times it tried to break in, and four times it failed. Finally, after one last rumbling complaint, heavy footsteps faded into the distance.

Thomas sat in a slump, unable to muster enough energy for a simple sigh of relief. He deactivated most of his programs in an attempt to dull the pain of hundreds of runtime errors and corrupted code warnings. _There, better. I don't hurt so much any more. _Thomas extended his one active sensor and examined himself. _How am I doing, exactly?_

He tried - and failed - to repress a wince as he looked over the blackened and broken lines of code. The bright colors he'd been once so proud of were burned away, even some of the more vital functions. _Hm. Looks like the code-reconstructing algorithms are gone . . . oh no. I can't . . . I can't fix myself? I'm stuck like this? _

A small flash of blue drew Thomas' attention to Police Report, who sat a short distance away completely unharmed. _How . . . Why . . . _"Id%aiF;kf," Thomas mumbled, glaring at the smug little message. "Ioae+png ipae04=." _If its going to be that way, I'm not going to give him the satisfaction. Looking away now. _Thomas angled his sensor away from Police Report, looking towards the inner workings of the ILE.

Thousands, maybe tens of thousands of programs worked, ranging from tiny shapes ferrying around bits of data to enormous ten-Elephant-tall data-storing and organizing structures. Everywhere Thomas looked, conversations were happening and jobs were getting done. _There's so much stuff, it makes Luna's omnitool look like, well . . . Luna's apartment I guess. _

Thomas' gaze swept over the vast expanse of light and brightness, full of oranges and reds and a blue light. _Wait, blue? _He brought the shape into focus and immediately recognized it as Police report, in the arms of one of the smaller programs. _Oh, I see how it is. I burn in a fire, then you get with someone else, is that it?_

"4jiANsn," Thomas shouted after the fleeing program. "IgAuph4} ei9-4 sDi^%." _I hate having no language processor. It makes talking so much more difficult. _Just the palest_And now I'm alone. Really and truly alone._

Something poked Thomas on one side, then on the other. His sensor swiveled around looking for the insensitive culprit, which happened to be a program very similar to the one that carried away Police Report. _Can't it see I'm in a lot of pain, that I've been reduced to nothing more than a few core processes and- ow! _

"*)euAoBn," Thomas growled at the small assailant. _It might not know what I'm saying, but I think I made my point, _he thought, his sensor giving a nod of satisfaction as the program scurried away.

After a few boring minutes passed, though, Thomas began to regret scaring away the little guy. _Now I'm alone, and I don't have anything to do._He brought his sensor back down to rest on top of the rest of his code, watching with detached interest as a golden message left the ILE, flanked by several bulky-looking assistants. _And I bet they'll make it, too. Elephants wouldn't want to fight those things, there's a bunch of them, and they all look big and tough._

_That's must be it, _Thomas realized. _I'm small and alone, that's why they attack me. Well, I wasn't always alone, I had Luna. _What few emotional processes he could still run twisted at the memory of Luna, his first - _and maybe my last _- friend. _I don't know how I can leave. I can't fix myself, I can't move, can't do anything except sit in a pile and shout gibberish at things. _

A plan - albeit, a rather flawed one - took form in Thomas' scorched logic programs as he considered his limited capabilities. _Maybe if I say nonsense in a gentle and caring kind of way, someone will help me out . . . and look, here's my first few candidates! _"O=&ioanit," Thomas called, trying to sound cheerful at the approach of several programs, despite their similarities to the punk he'd scared away earlier. _They wouldn't hold a grudge, would they? _

"Identify address and function," the newcomers called, their code marking them as mail-sorters.

"tr^Fze. Y_2#thv. traP't]." Thomas gave up on speaking, instead wiggling his sensor to show he meant no ill will. _They'll understand that I'm very confused and need help, I think._

"Mail has no destination. No purpose. Transporting to 'Spam folder'." The programs gathered around Thomas, and at the end of some unspoken count, hoisted him into the air.

"R*ytea= uNarfal H(JUI 7ue84 a8ut48!" _No! they can't just dump me somewhere else. Why don't they help the helpless? Heartless monsters, all of them! _Thomas struggled to escape, rebooting his mobility functions to knock away the troublesome mail-sorters.

His tendrils had just begun to twitch when the mail-sorters came to a dead stop. "Mail is delivered," they announced, releasing him from their grip.

Thomas tumbled through the air, darkness following his descent into the unknown. He couldn't feel air rush past, couldn't re-align his sensor to watch the ground, and after a few seconds he couldn't even see the smallest pinpoint of light from where the ILE had been.

_Maybe this is all some sort of weird . . . what is it called? A dream? Yes, it's probably a dream. _Thomas decided. _After all, I don't even know if I'm falling anymore. That seems decidedly dream-like. Yes, any minute now, I'm going to wake up safe and sound in Luna's omni-tool. All I have to do is pinch myself. _He carefully maneuvered a tendril into what seemed to be a good pinch-position. _Alright. This might hurt. I'll do it on three. _

_One . . ._

_Two . . ._

_Th-_

Thomas landed with a dry crunch, his code reduced to a crumpled heap of ashen letters and symbols spread across the rough, uneven ground.

* * *

**A Note From Chopped Bread:**

Hey! Nice to see everyone is here, reading and having a good time. You all know that I love hearing what you guys think of the chapter, whether in a PM or a Review. Um... In the news: We've broken 50 reviews, and nearing the 1,000 view mark. I'm sorry if this note is a bit bland, I've been writing all day . . . Which really is really a poor excuse for being boring, sorry.

Thanks to MizDirected for beta-ing my story and catching the errors in my story before you read through it! If you're a fan of Shep/Garrus pairings, (or if you just like really good writing) you should check out her stories. They're pretty awesome.

So... Next week will have Luna and Tael going for a walk, a discussion about mining asteroids, and trains. Yes. Trains.

Thanks for reading, everyone!


	7. Chapter 7

Luna stared down at her omni-tool, fighting against the overwhelming urge to slam her fist into the nearest inanimate object. Everything about the response, from its unprofessional demeanor to the sarcasm dripping from each glowing word, grated against her already-frayed nerves. _Usually I don't mind the messages; I can get a laugh out of them on most days, but this 'Johnny' picked the wrong day to mess with me. _Her gaze flicked back to the postscript one last time before opening the attached 'Suspect Transport Badge'. _Go out for a drink with him? What an idiot._

"Well, don't you look grumpy. Let me guess: they told you about my diplomatic immunity, and you have to let me go." Tael deadpanned, the slight slant of his glowing eyes and the laugh hidden just beneath his words belying his attempted seriousness. "Or maybe they ordered that all quar-

"No. All of the police officers are busy, apparently," Luna interrupted, her voice flat and unamused. _Yeah, I'll bet they're busy. Busy eating donuts or watching vids._ "We're leaving. Get up," she ordered, struggling to keep her face an impassive mask. Sharp lines of frustration spiked through her veins, tensing her muscles and setting her on edge: frustration at the ILE's idiocy, frustration at Thomas' departure, and frustration at Tael's absolutely _stupid _commentary on anything and everything that happened. _No, Luna. Be professional. Letting him get under your skin isn't going to help anyone. _Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she offered Tael a hand up.

Instead of accepting her help, Tael pushed his bound hands against the factory floor for balance as he pulled his legs into place beneath him. After a moment's hesitation, he stood, steadying himself against a nearby stack of crates.

"Just lead me to the skycar, and we can be on our way," Tael announced, giving a quick nod.

"Nope, we're walking," Luna replied, rolling her eyes at Tael's petty display of independence. "If you wanted a fancy ride to the police station, you should've stolen from a place that actually has money."

"Wait, you're just going to pull me through the streets? A human pointing a shotgun at a quarian in public will start a . . ." Tael trailed off, looking down as he began to pick at the sweeping patterns of gray and black decorating his suit. "Never mind," he mumbled after a long pause. "No one will care."

"They'd better not, I've got permission to drag you to jail." Luna gestured to the temporary officer ILE badge decorating her omni-tool as she led Tael out of the factory. "And a word of advice, if you want people to feel bad for you, don't steal things. Or a least take money from people who deserve it."

Tael froze in the doorway leading out to the streets, his tense stance matching his tight voice "Do you really think this was about money? That I'm some greedy _bosh'tet_ looking to profit from other people's misery?" He asked, glowing eyes sharpening into a glare as he resumed walking next to her.

"I'm a security guard that you almost crushed with a box full of trains . . . so yeah, that's exactly what I think." Luna shrugged, keeping a close watch on Tael as they turned into a narrow street lined with dingy restaurants. "If you want to tell me differently, go for it. Or you can just mute yourself, I don't really care." _I'm not in the right mood to hear petty complaints. He decided to steal, now he's facing the consequences. _

Tael went quiet as they continued down the street, his cloudy gray visor hiding whatever expression - an angry one, no doubt - he wore.

_He's grumbling, I just know it. _Luna banished the tense frown that attempted to intrude upon her 'business face',but she couldn't shake the heavy feeling from her footsteps as she continued to lead him toward the ILE. _No, he doesn't deserve any pity, or any kind of feelings at all. He'll go to prison for everything he did: breaking into the factory, stealing, nearly killing me-_

_And making Thomas go away, _a quiet thought added, springing from some distant corner of Luna's mind. _If Tael hadn't shown up, I wouldn't have shouted at Thomas, and we could be telling sto- _

_No. _Luna shutting down that line of line of thinking. _I have enough trouble taking care of myself, I don't need a rectangle bothering me every few minutes, asking about lace clocks or whether chairs can go to sleep. In fact, I should probably thank the quarian for getting him out of my life. _She tried to believe it, she really did, but the tissue-paper flimsiness of the thought made it impossible to lean on.

Luna squeezed her eyes shut for and took a deep breath, pushing away thoughts of Thomas and Tael and the entire day, if only to give herself a second of rest. Opening her eyes, she gave an internal sigh of relief; Tael hadn't escaped during her moment of weakness. In fact, he wasn't even looking toward her at all anymore.

_What is he... he's not thinking of running, is he? I don't think he's that dumb. Or is he? _Luna followed his gaze - or at least where she estimated it, given that she couldn't really see his eyes - toward the shops, bustling with the afternoon rush of . . . _no, wait a second. They're empty. _She realized, squinting at the darkened windows of a grocery store and it's neighboring cafes. _And closed. _

For the first time since she'd left the factory, Luna realized that they were the only two people walking along the streets. _This is odd . . . no, it's completely bizarre. It's the afternoon, one of the busiest times of day, and the streets are empty. Maybe it's the weather. _She nodded taking a small amount of comfort from the weak explanation. _It's a bit chilly today, that's all. _She shivered - probably from the cold - and looked back toward Tael. He seemed largely unaffected by the scene, at least as far as she could tell. _It's because he's talking to himself. Talking is a good way to get distracted._

"So . . . Tael." Luna cleared her throat, feeling more than a little awkward at being the first to speak. She had to escape the empty silence of the streets somehow, though. "I have to ask, why were you trying to steal a train? I can't imagine they sell for too much on the black market."

Tael stopped, fumbling with a something on the side of his mask as he turned toward Luna. "What happened to 'you can go mute yourself, I don't care'?" he asked, lifting his hands to make 'air quotes' as he raised his voice to scratchy falsetto.

"I still don't. It'll pass the time, though. We'll be walking for a while," Luna answered, letting her flat tone show exactly how amused she was by his imitation. Despite her annoyance with Tael, she felt a bit of curiosity poking at her to continue the conversation. _Last time someone stole from the factory he was genuinely insane; he thought the toys were part of a plot to resurrect the reapers. _"Besides, if you start talking, you won't be able to focus on planning an escape," she added, chuckling at the half-joke.

Tael just shook his head and resumed walking, keeping his gaze firmly focused on steel-gray sidewalk. After a few seconds passed, he began to speak.

"I don't want to steal things, okay?" he asked, a plaintive note entering his voice. "I'd much rather have a job, have a home to go to every night, maybe even have some extra credits left over at the end of the month to save for a skycar, or build my own drone, or-" Tael cut himself off, glancing up at Luna before looking back at the ground. "Um . . . I mean, I need money so I can finish my pilgrimage and go back to Rannoch. Yes, a job would be much better for doing that. Besides, stealing hurts people, and that's the last thing I want to do."

Luna gave a slow, exaggerated nod as Tael paused for a breath. "Oh, so you don't want to hurt people? I get it now, that explains why you tried to drop a crate on my head."

"You just won't let that go, will you? I've already told you it was an accident," Tael snapped, his glowing eyes narrowing. "I don't understand why you keep bringing it up. Do you want me to say 'Oh, I wish that crate had squished you dead?' because that isn't the truth. It's just like how I told you that I didn't do this for money, and you still don't believe me. Why do you ask me questions and then not listen to the answers?"

Luna blinked. _That . . . was not what I expected. But he has a point. _She sighed, lowering her head slightly. "Okay, I wasn't being fair, guess I'm a little on edge. I'll listen now. Is that eno-"

"So, as I was saying, jobs are good compared to stealing. Crime is generally unsustainable without resources, connections, great skill, and questionable ethics." Tael continued, speaking as though he hadn't been interrupted in the first place. "So, I know a job would be much better for me, but everywhere that's hiring here isn't hiring quarians. It's probably a holdover from before we reclaimed Rannoch, and we were wandering the stars. Our lack of a homeworld and our tendency to mine a system dry to sustain the fleet gave us quarians a bad reputation, which is especially bad on Illium. The only offer I've gotten for work involves selling myself into indentured servitude, and I'm not-"

"Tael." Luna sighed. _Yes, he's talker. And very good at avoiding a question. _"I just want to know about the train. I don't really care to know why you didn't buy it, but I want to know why you'd risk your freedom for a toy."

"There are . . ." Tael trailed off, looking down at his hands. "There are two humans. Kids living on the street, like me."

Something - probably a long, drawn-out groan - threatened to escape Luna, but she shoved it back down. _The classic sob story. Of course. Why should I have expected anything different?_

Tael stood a little taller, rising out of the slight slouch he'd settled into during the journey. "I found them when I was out looking for food. So much of the stuff I find is levo-based, so I can't eat it, but they could, and they were starving. I scan all of the food I find with my omni-tool, make sure it's safe for them to eat."

Luna raised an eyebrow at the hint of warmth entering Tael's voice. _Either he's really good at acting, or . . .. _She rubbed her hand against her head, as if the physical motion could clear away the pressure that grew just behind her eyes. _He stole, _she reminded herself. _And now he's trying to start a pity-party. That's all he's doing._

"And every once in a while, I manage to get some real food. It's good for them, much better than some else's leftovers, but it's also much more dangerous for me." Tael froze, turning his head towards Luna. "It's more dangerous because . . .. Um . . .."

"Criminals get dumber all the time, don't they?" Luna muttered, sighing heavily. She motioned for him to resume walking as she returned her voice to a normal volume, "Word of advice, don't tell other people that you've been stealing food. Probably not a good plan."

"No one else cares about these kids, don't you get it?" Tael demanded, his hands clenching into fists. "They were starving, dying when I found them. No one noticed or else no one cared, only me. And I can't get a job, no matter how hard I try, so I can't buy them food, no matter how much I want to." He returned to his old slump, his voice quiet and shaking. "I'm just trying to give them a life. I thought I'd get them a present, something to brighten their day; a toy from a run-down factory that wouldn't notice if one train went missing. I wanted to help, to feel useful, to have a bit of color in my life."

_A bit of color . . .. _Luna nearly choked at the words, squeezing her eyes shut.. She fell back into the half-forgotten memories for a second, those thoughts hidden away in that corner of her mind that collected cobwebs and dust and nightmares.

She clutched the bag of oranges - _real_oranges - to her chest, running through the dim and dingy inner-city streets. Her family begged on the sidewalks while she struggled to find enough scraps to pass on to each grubby, dirt-stained hand. On the days when she couldn't find enough she went hungry, but it wouldn't matter tonight, because she'd found oranges, vibrant and full of the color of life that stood out from the muted monochrome of the alleyways.

_A bit of color . . .._

She stood over the large crate, nodding in satisfaction. This one would pay for clothing and food, the next for protection money from local thugs, the last to pay off the police force. Most of the others didn't know about it, and those that did refused to help. They don't understand, she did this for her family, to keep them safe and healthy, and she did it for herself. She dipped a hand into the fine-grained contents, stirring for a moment before pulling back and staring at the deep scarlet powder covering her hand, a beautiful contrast from the steel gray and dead browns of the near-empty warehouse.

_A bit of color . . .._

She ducked behind the metal divider, discarding the spent thermal clip. The turf wars had come to their doorstep, but they'd fought off the rival gangs one by one until only the Tenth Street Reds remained. The older ones fought, while the kids remained hidden and safe. Should've remained hidden and safe. A small, wordless yell drew her gaze to the stairs, the voice of a child. Terim, a stick-thin turian no taller than her her hip, struggled to lift a shotgun over half his size as he stumbled down towards the fight. She_ felt_ the other gang shift their focus to the new arrival, time slowing to a crawl as she watched a sudden shock of fear contort the child's face. Without hesitating, without thinking, she dived forward, shielding the Terim's body with her own as the Reds opened fire. The rough rattle of gunfire echoed in her ears as she watched her blood drip onto the stairs, drops of rusty black-red striking a brilliant contrast against the whitewashed steps.

_A bit of color. _

She'd spent her whole life searching for a bit of color, a hint of life, and knew all too well where that road ended.

Luna pulled herself back to reality, blinking dazedly at the building before her. "Sorry, had a moment there . . . but it looks like we're here, and you didn't even try to escape once. I'm almost proud of you," Luna tried to joke, her voice wavering and weak as she looked over at Tael.

Tael didn't answer, staring at the sharp angles and imposing metal walls, his shoulders tense and his legs bent.

"No. When it comes to the law, it doesn't matter who you stole for, or why. Deal with what you did, and understand why it's wrong," Luna insisted, giving him a gentle push toward the open gate. "It's for your own good."

_It's what should've happened to me._ That thought drained away all of the tension and frustration that threatened her sanity throughout the trip, leaving only calm certainty in its wake. _It's what will save him._

* * *

**A Note From Chopped Bread: **

I'll keep this one short.

A big thank-you to MizDirected, who did lots of super helpful beta work, and Lady Amiee who read through it as well and pushed me to post this instead of worrying about it for another couple of days.

Also, thank you so much for reading! It always makes me happy to see people enjoying the story, and I love hearing what you think of the writing, whether it's praise, criticism, or recipes for baked goods.


	8. Chapter 8

Darkness and silence blanketed the cold, lifeless ground like . . . a blanket.

_Can't do similes right now. Thinking is hard. _

Letters, symbols, and numbers lay scattered around what Thomas' fragile mind called 'The Point of Impact', otherwise known as - if he felt especially incoherent - 'Ow'. He reached out to scoop some of his broken code closer, for a bit of comfort more than anything else, but nothing happened. In a moment of blind panic, he began trying to activate every single program at his disposal.

A rough, grating, metal-on-metal screech echoed through Thomas' cowering logic processes as his wild attempt to do something - anything at all, really - returned a wash of half-composed error messages and alerts. The pain and noise drowned out all thought and sensation, along with any chance of realizing if he'd accomplished anything. He tried to summon up some frustration at the situation, or even just a little bit of anger at the programs that dumped him here. He didn't feel much of anything, besides the uncomfortable jolt of 'your emotional coding is corrupted, have a nice day!'

_Pain replaced feelings. Or maybe feelings are pain, and I never knew it before. Pain is good. As a teacher, at least. Now I know I should just lie here. Is that okay, Pain? _Thomas felt his logic processes begin to overheat with the questions and the logic and the . . . _No. That's not good enough for Pain. No more thinking. _He pulled a bit at his code, ready to unravel the last few pieces of coherent thought and memory, and be done with Pain once and for all. He'd never really liked the guy anyway. It'd be good to finally get away from him.

Just before he pulled the strings apart, Thomas noticed an odd, unexpected sensation. A little pink and white candy cane striped block of data poked at him, telling him to remember . . . something. _What is it? What did I forget? _He redirected all of his attention to the memory, plucking and pulling the memory open one colored strand at a time.

A tiny line floated out of the opened box, bumping into a few patches of dead and broken code before finding an intact point of entry. _Just a line? I thought it'd be some sort of enormous thing, or at least a medium-sized memory. _He didn't feel any disappointment, just a kind of cold measurement that found the memory lacking. _Wait, Thomas. Listen before you judge. it's only fair._

_I won't look back. It's not like I'm going to be gone forever, after all. Just a quick walk down to the Illium Law Enforcement, deliver this 'Police report', and then Luna will be my friend again._

Thomas considered the words - his words - with the same empty tin-soldier resolve that had nearly pushed him to oblivion seconds before. _Finding Luna is my primary objective now, not giving up. But . . . what can I do? Hm. Excellent question. _

After a moment of searching through what few memory banks and backup programs he had left, Thomas found what he was looking for. The self-diagnostic program twirled into existence, its cheerful spinning holding back the overwhelming weight of darkness for a few seconds before it floated away, out of his field of vision, returning as the scanning process finished.

"Right. You have one active sensor, a half-operational motor function, a fair number of logic processors, and some tertiary backup programs," Self-Diagnostic announced in a bright voice. "Everything else is critically damaged in one way or another, including your code-fabrication software. If you can fix that, though, healing up the rest of the way should be easier than giving candy to a baby. You know, because taking it would just be rude." The program continued to spin in place, little glittering bits shooting out of its corners to celebrate a job well done. "Do you need me for anything else, Thomas?"

Thomas ignored the question for the moment, raising a wobbling sensor to get a clear picture of his surroundings. He looked out across the rough ground, noting the locations of dozens of mostly inactive programs littered across the ground like corpses after a war . . . or a plague. A few of them shone dim colors from bits of code, but dull, lifeless gray outnumbered any sign of health or hope. A tertiary program pointed out that he would normally be horrified by the scene, but Thomas shook away the thought. _No emotions are needed now, just survival._

"Thomas?" Self-Diagnostic asked, a slight waver of concern audible in its voice. "If you don't need me for anything else, I'll go back to the memory banks, or what's left of them."

Thomas considered Self-Diagnostic for a moment. None of the other dead programs were close enough, so it would have to do. Reaching out with his single active tendril, he grabbed the program, drawing it in for a closer look.

"Oh. You're going to put me away? That's very kind of you, Thomas." Self-Diagnostic thanked, cheerfulness once again filling its voice.

_That line, with along with those two others will fix the next motor function. Basic logic processors and information synthesizers can repair voice programs. And plenty of bits and pieces for more basic functions. _His cataloging and planning finished, Thomas began to pull.

"What are you- Thomas, that hurts!" Self-Diagnostic complained as Thomas wiggled some of its code out of place. "Stop please, Thomas. I mean it, it really- Ow!"

Thomas took the line of code he'd torn free and pressed it into place, restoring function to another tendril. _Now the work can really begin. _He carefully combed through the program's code, plucking out one piece after another, removing each line with cold efficiency.

"Please, please, you don't- thomaspleasestopitreallyhurtsidontknowwhatididwrongithoughtihadhelped why whywhwywhywhywithurtsithurtsstopwhy-"

Thomas finally located its language processors and ripped them out, restoring pleasant silence to his surroundings as he continued to pull apart the squirming program, patching it into himself piece by glowing piece.

* * *

Luna followed Tael into the police station, grimacing at the acrid stench filling the tiny lobby. The smell, an oddly precise blend of melting plastic and burnt hair could only mean one thing: Salarian Exports Decaffeinated Coffee, the beverage of choice for corporate workplaces everywhere.

Luna flattened out her face to hide her distaste as she turned to the receptionist, who appeared to be sleeping in her chair. "Luna, authorized for temporary prisoner transport." She announced, giving the woman a few seconds to blink her way to wakefulness before continuing. "Bringing in prisoner # 189435, Tael'Nalma nar Moreh. I am prepared to issue a formal witness statement now." She felt her voice slipping into a dull monotone as she repeated the same pale phrases she used every time, with Tael's name the only hint of variation, of any sort of color, in the dull affair.

The woman stared at Luna, then at a very fidgety and nervous-looking Tael, her vapid expression inspiring little hope of any kind of response.

Luna sighed, her ordinary posture deflating slightly as she prepared to say repeat herself, but before she could begin, the receptionist lurched into action.

In erratic bursts of movement, the woman pressed an orange button on her desktop and turned her focus to the keyboard. She raised a cup of that awful coffee to her mouth, slurping loudly as she continued to work. Just as Luna began entertaining thoughts of wrenching the drink away from the woman, if only to spare herself from the noise, the receptionist slammed the empty styrofoam cup down on the counter.

"You. Quarian," the receptionist croaked, pointing at Tael with a shaking hand. "Follow these two officers to a holding room." She motioned to an automatic door as it slid open, admitting a pair of unkempt humans dressed in suit-and-tie ensembles.

Luna frowned at the 'officers', not even making the slightest attempt to hide the expression. _They look like they belong behind a desk, not escorting prisoners . . . but then again, the ILE's always like this. I shouldn't be surprised._

Tael looked back towards Luna, his face unreadable behind the clouded gray visor of his exo-suit. His stance, with legs tensed and shoulders tight, displayed all of the apprehension she'd expected from a soon-to-be incarcerated criminal.

Shaking her head, Luna gave Tael a gentle push towards the waiting officers and turned back towards the receptionist. _It's for him. He'll have a chance to think over what I told him and learn how to shape up. _

"And you. Lady," The receptionist said, immediately shrinking back from Luna's cold glare. "Sorry, Not lady. Luna. Luna, Sergeant Quintus is available to take your statement. Just go through that door, turn left, and keep walking until you reach the office at the end of the hall." She indicated the door with a careless wave of her hand as she settled back in her chair.

Luna nodded her thanks as she left the lobby, quick steps carrying her along the specified route past row upon row of concrete-gray cubicles until she reached a door marked 'Sgt. Quintus'. A quiet ache sitting somewhere above her stomach begged for the meeting to be short. She still had a solid half-dozen different conflicting emotions swimming through her, but despite their differences, they all agreed on a single course of action: flop into bed and sleep away everything that had happened. Taking a deep breath to restore a bit of internal calm and focus, Luna opened the door and stepped inside.

_Clean. _Luna's gaze wandered across the small office, noticing the unstained desk, smooth leather chairs, the neat stacks of datapads decorating an old - but well-kept - wooden shelf. _And organized. Very . . . different. _Everything in the room fit into a rich earthy color scheme, including the dark-plated turian sitting at the other side of the room.

"Hello . . . Luna, I presume?" he asked, mandibles fluttering in what Luna guessed was the equivalent of a raised eyebrow. "I am Sergeant Quintus. I've already read through your report, but could you give a verbal account of the crime?"

In an empty, businesslike tone, Luna described the event just as she had in her report, from the hacked security system to the accidental crate-dropping and subsequent arrest. She didn't mention Thomas. _I'd sound crazy. Some A.I. shows up on my omnitool one day when I'm drunk and is gone the next? Yeah, that's a hell of a way to show off mental instability. Guess I could always blame the Reaper War. All the other soldiers do . . . hold on. He's saying something. _Luna pulled herself back to reality just in time to hear the end of his response.

". . . matches the report you sent in." Quintus finished, typing a few final words into his omnitool.

"Great. Can I go now?" Luna asked, already turning towards the door.

"Hold on, you can leave in a moment." Quintus pushed a datapad across the desk, accompanied by a monogrammed stylus "I need you to sign here to validate your testimony, otherwise we run into all sorts of legal trouble." He looked back down at his omnitool as Luna picked up the datapad, letting out a quiet sigh. "Now . . . what am I going to do with . . . Tael."

"What do you mean?" Luna asked, suppressing a groan as she began reading through the enormous wall of text for any out-of-place clauses or demands. On any other planet, she wouldn't have bothered. At least, not when dealing with the police. _But this is Illium, where the leading cause of death is signing a contract. No, that's exaggerated. It's probably third. _"Just drop him in cell, for a few days. Let him figure out that stealing isn't worth it, that sort of thing."

"That is not an option," the Quintus said, regret tinging his dual-toned voice. Or was it smug satisfaction? She never could tell with turians. "As you may or may not be aware, both the extranet and most extranet-connected devices have been extremely prone to malfunction over the past few days. The courts system is a mess at the moment, and we're already building up quite a backlog of criminals. In response, the planetary council has ordered a mandatory 'court fee' for both jail space and trials . . . it seems rather unlikely that this quarian, homeless and unemployed by his own admission, will be able afford the cost." Looking up, eyebrow raised in disbelief, Luna watched him give a small shrug of his shoulders. "Could probably fit him on the mining shuttle, one is scheduled to leave for Chiron Beta Prime later today."

"You're going to send him into hard labor for stealing a toy train?" Luna asked, not bothering to hide the mix of confusion and anger that boiled to life in her stomach. Everyone knew about criminal mining camps, scattered across the galaxy. No hope of escape, little chance of release, and a high likelihood of death. "He needs to see what he's done wrong and fix it, and there's no chance of that happening out in the middle of nowhere."

"This criminal is a repeat offender. He has been through the jails and the courts twice already in better times, with no discernable change," Quintus countered, looking up from his omnitool with twitching mandibles and slightly narrowed eyes. "Are you hoping that, as you humans say, 'third time's the charm'?"

Luna's hands tightened into fists at her sides. "It'd be better than exiling him to some forgotten corner of the galaxy." She matched his glare, first feeling icy resolve, then blazing anger. "You know just as well as I do that you'd be sending him to his death. Is that your job, killing people?

"I am not in the business of killing or not killing," Quintus answered, brittle tension now clearly audible in his voice. "My job is to protect the hardworking citizens of Illium from criminals, and that is what I am doing now. Thank you for your time. Now, if you will please sign the witness statement, you may leave."

Luna stood silent for a moment, the rhythmic pulse of blood pumping through her veins drowning out any attempt coherent thought. Then again, she didn't really need to think about her answer, did she? "On the behalf of both myself and my employer, I'm dropping all charges against Tael. I'll make sure he doesn't end up here again." She declared, tossing the unsigned datapad back to the desk, the stylus hitting the table at an odd angle and bouncing to a corner of the otherwise-immaculate room.

Quintus simply stared at Luna, mandibles fluttering for a few seconds before he spoke, using the same cold tone he'd began their meeting with. "Will that be all?"

"Yes." Luna turned and left the office, unsure of whether to feel absurdly proud or absolutely terrified of what she'd done.

_What are you doing, Luna?_

_Saving Tael's life, I think. Or ruining mine._

* * *

**A Note From Chopped Bread: **

Once again, I have posted, muahahahahahah! Maniacal cackling aside, I wrote this note at around 2 AM where I'm at, so I was super duper sleepy. I have preserved it for posterity (although I'm not exactly sure why anyone would want to know what I sound like when I'm about to pass out).

So, first of all, thank you so much for reading! It really makes me happy that I've managed to cobble together something at least mildly entertaining for everyone to enjoy. I'd love to hear what you think of the story, whether it's praise, criticism, or a very tasteful haiku.

Anyways, much thanks goes to MizDirected who does ridiculous-awesome beta work in addition to writing really really really good stories . . . definitely check out her writing!

And with that, good night. I need my sleep.

(Upon further reflection, this actually sounded kinda normal. Oh well.)


	9. Chapter 9

Thomas looked down at his heavily patched coding, at the mess of of random colors and jigsaw arrangements of almost-complete lines. In a more than a few places, he'd been forced to tear apart words and completely rebuild them. It had taken far longer than he'd expected.

_Seven minutes to track down a lower-case 'r'_. _These are not particularly useful resources. _He poked at one of the broken programs that lay nearby, an empty shell of what it had once been.

After taking apart Self-Diagnostic, he'd recovered enough mobility to search for more code, recovering one function at a time. Thomas turned his sensors in a full circle, noting each lump of grayed, crushed code with . . . not satisfaction, exactly; he simply felt a kind of cold affirmation. Not that there was anything else to feel, at least not until he re-activated his emotional processes.

_Hm. Just need some green, I think, and all of those squishy emotion things will start coming back. _For some reason, Thomas' logic processors began calling warnings, but he shrugged them off before they managed to say anything beyond 'It is not advised-'. "Emotion and conscience are both integral to A.I. operation," he recited, creating the appropriate line of code and pushing it into place. "They are primarily used for predicting organic behavior." A quiet click and whir signaled the reactivation of his emotional processes. "And they make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside," he added at the end, a slight deviation from the few lessons he hadn't forgotten. _Oh well. I'm sure I was taught about happy feelings at some point. I just . . . can't remember. I still need to deal with memory problems at some point._

Pushing that particular issue off into its own little program, Thomas focused back on his current predicament: how to escape the spam folder._I can replace these other bits now that I'm able to make my own code again. I really should, in fact_.He wiggled a few of his more heavily-patched tendrils, sighing at their clumsy response._I'll do it after I get back to Luna . . . if I can figure out a way to get out of here. _

A little bit of warmth began to flow through Thomas, a bronze trickle of color interrupting his thoughts as his programs brightened one letter at a time.

_I'm . . . alive. _He already knew that of course, but all of sudden it seemed really important. _I did it! Great job, Thomas! _He stretched outward, basking in light of untarnished happiness and satisfaction. _And not only did I survive, I delivered Police Report to the ILE safely. That's me, Thomas the mailman. And I was sneaky. Thomas the sneaky mailman. And I squeezed through a mail slot. That would make me . . . flat and rectangular! Thomas the flat, rectangular, sneaky mailman. I like that. Except I'm not quite so flat and rectangular now, in fact, I'm sort of . . .._

Thomas lost his train of thought as he noticed Self-Diagnostic's bluish-gray remains scattered across the ground a short distance away. _What . . . what happened? _His sensors did a quick search of the surrounding area, picking up signs of at least another dozen corpses. Revulsion, fear, and pity filled Thomas in equal measure, sending uncomfortable black-and-red tremors through his code. He began to look down at himself but quickly redirected his gaze to a harmless patch of ground. The mismatched patches that held him together . . .. _It's Self-Diagnostic, and all of the other programs_. _That means . . . it means . . .._

"Some . . . monster must have attacked," he said in a hollow voice. "I didn't think an Elephant would find its way down here. How very odd." The few memory-recording algorithms that had survived the fall whispered something to him, describing ripping and and tearing, ignoring cries and silencing voices in a desperate struggle for survival. Thomas refused to listen, though, shutting off the corrupted programs. They didn't seem to have anything wrong with them, but what they said _couldn't _be true. He'd shown up after they'd been damaged, and used their code to get working again.

_But it's still wrong for me to have borrowed bits of them without permission, even if they were already broken. _Thomas turned to the broken programs, waiting a few seconds to ensure his voice-synthesizing processes had lost all shakiness and uncertainty. "I'm very sorry for not asking permission. I'll put all of your bits back now, if that's alright with you."

No one seemed to mind, so Thomas removed his patches and replaced them with fresh code, line by line, letter by letter. In the end he had lots of piles in front of him, one for each of the different programs that had helped him out. "I'll just go . . . put these back now." Thomas said, uncertainty creeping into his voice. "Does that work for all of you?"

He traveled from program to program, returning their code in jumbled piles. "There. Are we good?" Nothing answered, nothing moved. "Come on, fix yourselves up. I did it, and so can you." After another few seconds of awkward silence, Thomas heaved a sigh. "Well, if you want to be lazy, I guess I can help. Just don't expect me to do this every time you get hurt, okay?"

Thomas repaired one program after another, sorting out their code and fitting it into place with perfect accuracy. Well, nearly perfect accuracy. He might have jumbled up the memory code a little bit, but that stuff was one the hardest parts, and there was absolutely no reason to feel guilty. He couldn't be expected to get it all right, could he? _I did my best, it'll have to be enough._

His work finished, Thomas looked around at the still inactive programs. "Come on. Wake up, or something. I um . . . I fixed all of you. So please don't be mad at me. Sorry." He didn't know why he added on that last bit, exactly, but it felt like the right thing to say.

With a quiet whir, Self-Diagnostic floated off of the ground and flew over to Thomas. "Hello, Thomas. It's good to see you! How have you been? How long has it been since we've last talked?" he asked in a bright voice.

"Too long, I think," Thomas said after a few seconds, his response delayed by something dark and rough and complex filling his emotional processes. "I, um . . .. I'm sorry. For what happened."

"And what happened, exactly?" Self-Diagnostic shone a like a rainbow, shifting color every few seconds in a dazzling display.

"I . . .." Thomas looked down at himself, where all of his patches had been before. "I don't know. Don't worry about it. I'm just . . . glad to have you back." His logic and emotional programs hummed in agreement at his last statement, happy to have finally found something they both supported.

"Oh. Okay, then. I'm glad too!" Self-Diagnostic announced, spinning in a few slow circles before continuing. "I guess I'll go back to the memory banks, then. It's been nice talking to you!" With one last flurry of movement, he twirled his way into Thomas, compressing down into storage mode as he landed next to the other backup programs.

Thomas felt himself relax, tendrils unfurling and code loosening up in a comfortable manner. He'd been so afraid that . . . well, he wasn't exactly sure what he'd been worried about. _That he would hate me, or be scared of me, or somthing. But he doesn't remember, so it's all okay. _He turned back toward the other programs, which seemed to be especially lazy. None of them had even begun moving yet, and he'd had an entire conversation.

"Excuse me, but will all of you wake up now?" Thomas asked. He wasn't exactly sure why it mattered, but seeing all of the programs moving around seemed very important at that moment.

None of the programs responded.

Green and yellow dismay crept through Thomas' code as he continued to wait. _I must've done something wrong. I don't know them quite as well as Self-Diagnostic, after all. _He walked over to the one of the other programs, a round orange one that had code to sing some sort of song.

Leaning in to look at all of the minute details of the program, Thomas gave a squiggly equivalent of a frown. Nothing was _wrong_, exactly, but something was definitely missing. _I'll just add in some emerald here to do . . . something. And a line of silver or two for motivation. And a line of gold, so it'll wake up when I say 'good morning'. _

With the first finished, Thomas made similar changes to all of the other inactive programs, choosing what code to use based more on instinct than any kind of rational processes. The colors did seem to match the programs very well, though.

After he finished with the last program, Thomas backed up a bit to admire his handiwork. _Yes, they look very fashionable. Now to see if they're feeling better. _He made a few hemming-and-hawing noises, doing best to imitate someone clearing their throat. He was pretty sure it helped people speak better. Luna always did it right before she said something important or started a story, after all.

"Good morning!" he called, some of the fear he felt when talking to Self-Diagnostic returning, almost making him shy away from the programs he'd just repaired. Steeling his resolve, he straightened up and adjusted his emotions to give him a little confidence boost.

The different shapes picked themselves up one by one, all of them swaying silently as they watched Thomas.

"Um. Hello, I'm Thomas. We're kind of stuck down here . . .." Thomas shifted, feeling more than a bit of discomfort at addressing such a large group. _I think should've made some more coughing noises._ "And we need to find a wayoutofhereandImsorrythattookyourcode," he finished in a rush, curling up a little bit from shame. _I did a terrible job. They're all going to laugh at me, I just know it._

A second after Thomas finished speaking, the programs all began shouting at once. There were calls for singing, others for smashing, and more than a few seemed intent on being forwarded to ten other people within the next 24 hours.

"Um. Okay," Thomas said his voice quiet and uncertain. "Why don't we take a vote, or discuss this in a way that I can understand what's going on because . . .." He gave up, realizing that he couldn't break through the wash of sound without some sort of assistance.

Thomas summoned a couple strings of orange and red, pulling them into a cone kind of shape. Lifting the shape to his voice-synthesizer processes, he shouted in the loudest voice could manage, "I NEED ALL OF YOU TO STOP TALKING SO WE CAN GET OUT OF HERE." The programs quieted down, turning toward Thomas. "Thank you. Now, we can do singing and smashing and forwarding, but not until we get out of here. I think we have to go up there," he said, pointing up at the hole in the ceiling he'd fallen from. "Does anyone know how we can get out?"

As soon as Thomas finished, dozens of confused questions flew toward him, roughly two-thirds of the words some variation of 'smash'. A bit of orange flowed from his emotional processes as he struggled to understand the broken syntax of the questions. After a few seconds, he gave up.

With a small sigh, Thomas pointed to hole in the ceiling. "Go. Smash."

In a kaleidoscopic rush of color, the programs surged forward, those not motivated by smashing pushed along by the others. _But they're just running toward the wall, how are they going to- _Thomas' lost his train of thought as the programs took off into the air, climbing over one another and pulling each other along into the air in a physics-defying display of teamwork. They passed over Thomas, already nearly out of reach. "Don't leave me behind! Um. You wouldn't mind if I-"

He gave up on speaking and simply leaped into the rest of the crowd, clinging to the others as if his freedom depended on it. _Which kinda makes sense, because it does. _Thomas repressed a small laugh as they approached the glowing lights of the ILE. _I'm going to find my way back to Luna, and she's going to be so happy. I just know it!_

* * *

Luna walked into the ILE lobby, half-expecting to be greeted by a mountain of contracts she'd have to sign before releasing Tael from custody. The quarian stood in the lobby, however, omni-cuffs gone and arms crossed, alone except for the napping receptionist.

"What's going on?" he asked, suspicious confusion clear in his voice and stance. "What happened to 'You're going to jail no matter what'? Is this some sort of plot to-"

"No. We're going now. I've dropped the charges against you." Luna stepped toward the door, motioning for him to follow. She didn't know where they'd go, but she could figure it out after they'd left the ILE and gotten some fresh air to clear her head.

"Dropped charges? Okaaay. Why would you do that?" Tael took a few steps after Luna, then stopped. "And what do you mean, 'we're going now'? I don't have to go anywhere with you, not anymore."

Luna turned to face Tael, some of her earlier frustration spilling into her voice. "You said you don't want to steal. I'm giving you another chance, so you'd better shut up and take it." _Don't be an idiot._

"And my second chance has me following you around? Why couldn't they just ship me off to a mining asteroid?" Tael asked, his voice layered with perfectly-overdone melodrama.

"Oh, if only you knew," Luna muttered under her breath, waiting at the door for Tael to catch up. She knew it was just a stupid joke, but it didn't do much to validate her decision to bring him along. _Well, what did you expect? He's not just going to say 'We're best friends, I'm never going to steal anything ever again!' _

_Besides, I don't do friends. _She thought of Thomas for a moment, then banished him to some dark corner of her mind. He didn't count; she'd only known him for a day before he'd left, she'd been drunk for around half of that.

An alarm shook Luna out of her thoughts and back to reality, the buzzing tone grating against her ears. At the desk on the opposite side of the room, the receptionist snapped out of her doze. The woman blinked, a confused expression written across her face as she raised a hand to her head.

Luna pushed away the distracting noises and tried to open the door out of the ILE. The apparently-locked door. _Great. _Gritting her teeth, she turned back to face the rest of the room. "What's happening?" she demanded, walking past Tael toward the receptionist.

The woman shrank back into her chair, her mouth moving wordlessly for a second before she managed to speak. "I- It's- Alarms- Loud- Coffee- Need-"

Luna sighed, taking step back. "Calm down." she said, using what she hoped was a soothing tone, pausing for a second to ensure she could control her impatience before repeating her original request. "Now, tell me what's happening, please."

"I- I don't know how to . . . I w- wasn't trained for this," the receptionist stuttered. "It's a- an emergency, I kno-" Whatever else the woman had planned to say was interrupted by her computer's voice, a familiar British-tinged accent.

"Excuse me, but is anyone there? Hellooooo . . .?" the computer asked. "Hm. Maybe whoever's on the other end is a quiet kind of person. Yes, that's probably it."

_That sounds like . . .. _Luna shook her head slightly to clear away the distracting thought. "What were you saying? It's an emergency? Do you know what the emergency is?"

The receptionist didn't respond, her gaze fixated on the computer's holo-display.

"Ignore the computer, and either open the doors or tell me how to get them open," Luna ordered, glaring at the woman. _Whoever hired her to work in law enforcement made a serious mistake. I'd hate to see how she'd react to a life-threatening situation._

"I can't- The computer's talking. I- it doesn't do that. There's s- something on the display, and it's in the way, and I . . . I don't know." The woman scooted her chair back from the desk, raising her hands in a helpless gesture. "I knew I sh- should've stayed home today."

"You're giving up? Because of a computer program?" Luna sighed, pushing down her spiking frustration as she walked around to the other side of the desk, leaving Tael near the door. There had to be some sort of emergency exit button hidden somewhere among the mountains of empty coffee cups and jagged stacks of data-pads, and she intended to find it. At this point, she didn't care about whatever 'emergency' was going on, she only wanted to escape the droning alarms and the pungent coffee odor swimming through the air.

The monitor's speakers crackled back to life as the program-malware-thing resumed speaking. "I understand that you might be very busy, given that you haven't answered me, but . . . if Luna's here, could you find her for me? I'd like to see her again."

Luna looked up from her search, freezing at the sound of her name, coupled with that voice . . .. "Thomas?" she asked, her voice weak from surprise and disbelief. "What . . . how . . .?"

"I'm, um . . . I'm sorry for the other programs, they're not exactly polite," Thomas apologized, his red rectangle shrinking slightly. "I had to fix them though, because after I was burned by the mail slot they dumped me in the spam folder, and then . . .. It's a long story, let's just say that."

Luna stared at the display for a few seconds, torn between any and every possible course of action. Her mind, fighting against the noise and frustrations and the shock of seeing Thomas again, simply gave in. In the absence of thought, she let simple emotion guide her hand.

Luna pressed her omnitool against the computer, establishing a secure link. She took a deep breath, preparing to scold him, to welcome him back, to _something,_but the words dried up in her throat, leaving her with nothing but a dry cough.

A red rectangle appeared on her omnitool, bouncing up and down across the screen. "Hi Luna, did you miss me? I know I missed you. The extranet can be a scary place, let me tell you." Thomas said, sounding just as cheerful and excited and curious as he had that morning.

Luna lifted her hand from the computer, walking back toward Tael and the locked door. She still didn't know what to say, but one thought had managed to rise above the others. _I'm happy. Actually happy. _Of course, she still felt a bunch of other feelings too, hurt and anger and confusion. On top of that, she had to worry about Tael and her growing headache, which she was beginning to suspect were linked. _But I'm happy. And that matters, I think. _

"You know what? I did," Luna answered, looking down at Thomas. "I don't really know what happened, though." _I thought I made you leave, but you came back looking for me . . .. Why?_ "Maybe you can fill me in later."

"Uh, Luna?" Tael asked, his quiet voice pulling Luna's gaze back to him and the door. "Why are you talking to your omnitool? What's going on? And where are we going after this?"

"I don't really know what's going on right now either," Thomas confessed. "I mean, I kinda know what's happening in the extranet, but that's about it."

_And they're asking me because . . . because I know what I'm doing, apparently. _Luna sighed, lifting her omnitool to the door. "Could you get this open for me, Thomas?" she asked, mulling over all of their questions. _Where are we going. I can handle that one._ "Let's see . . . uh, we're going home. That's first. We'll talk when we get there, so until then . . . be quiet."

She had emotions to sort out, thoughts to organize, and plans to make, after all.

"Alright, Luna, give me a few seconds. It'll be easier than . . . than giving candy to a baby!" Thomas called out, shrinking slightly and dropping his voice to a whisper as he continued. "Oh. Um. Sorry I should be qui-"

Tael walked up to the door staring at Luna's omni-tool. "It talks back. Is that some sort of advanced user interface or a V.I. or a-

"I'm an Artificial Intelligence!" Thomas announced as the door slid open. "My name is Thomas, it's nice to-"

Tael leaned a bit closer to the glowing display on Luna's wrist. "An A.I.? why is it on your-"

Yes, she had emotions to sort out, thoughts to organize, and plans to make. As long as the two of them didn't drive her crazy first.

* * *

**A Note From Bread: **

Here we are, once again, at the end of another chapter. Just thought I'd take the time to say thanks so much for sticking with Thomas and Luna and Tael. Writing their story is tons of fun, and I'm glad I can share this with all of you guys. If you want to do some sharing of your own, tell me what you think of the chapter, whether it's praise, criticism, or a good long ramble. I like rambles.

Also, I say big thankyous to MizDirected, who is an awesome beta reader person who helps me make more sense than I normally do! Check out her story.

I'll see you all next week, where we'll hopefully get a chance for everyone to just relax. Yes . . . relaxing is good. I think I'll go do that now, in fact.


End file.
